


Transcendant

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cute, F/M, Feels, Kissing, Love Triangles, M/M, Pining, Protests, Romance, Sad, Trans Character, emotion, flash backs, sudden realizations of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 84,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marius was younger, his best friend in the whole world was a little boy who always wore a pink barret. But when Marius hits high school and falls in love with Cosette, he finds out that this beautiful stranger is really his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> http://sp00kyqueer.tumblr.com/private/101089321754/tumblr_ne2efibvZa1r3qt50

Ping!

Here we go again. 

Sometimes Marius wonders why he even puts up with Eponine. Night after night, without fail, she manages to get him roped up in some sort of trouble. Really, Marius should know better. It always starts the same tired way, with Eponine lauching one of her hair ties at his window to trigger that dreaded ping, warning Marius that he has mere seconds before she heaves the window open so she can lounge on his window sill. He’s grateful for the signal, however annoying: without it, she might show up and find him naked.

"Hello, Monsieur Marius." Eponine smirked, her twiggy arms managing to pull up the window. "Did you miss me?" Her broken giggle sounded and she swung her legs over the sill to pose for Marius. Twirling her unruly, brown hair around her finger, she waited for his answer.

Even though Eponine was loud, obnoxious, awkwardly flirty and had a talent for getting him in a bit of a pickle with her almost daily twisted schemes, he considered her his best friend. His only friend. He’d had another friend when he was young. Eugene. They’d been inseparable which had made Eponine very jealous. Eugene had lived with Eponine's family as a sort of slave, even though he was he’d been some sort of foster kid. 

"Of course I did." Marius replied in a jokingly irritated voice as he closed his book. "So, what's new, 'Ponine?" Why did he always fall into her trap? Eponine’s routine was to arrive, casually announce some irrational plan that could get her killed, and wait for Marius’ inevitable protest. Marius always tries to talk her out of it, but no matter how persuasive he is, Eponine never can be convinced to change her mind, and the conversation always ends with her sneaking out the window; she knows that Marius, being a kind soul, could never let her do anything stupid...alone.

"Oh, you know, the same old thing." Her exhausted dark eyes were fixed on her narrow fingers tugging at the laces of her combat boots. "Father's horrible, Mother's unbearable, Azelma's a brat, and Montparnasse is still a creep." She sighed, longing for a brighter future. "I think I'll run away tonight." She trailed off dramatically. 

Well, there's tonight's crazy idea. "Run away?" He squeaked,"'Ponine! That's insane!" 

"I know, I know." Her grimy hands caressed her sliced up arms. "But I know a thing or two about this city, I could make it." Her gaze shifted to the freckled boy who sat on his perfectly made bed, expecting him to try to talk her out of it. 

"Running away doesn't solve anything," Marius offered, weakly.

"Pontmercy, you certainly are a darling." Yet another way of trying to seduce him, awkwardly braided into the conversation. "But if I'm going, I'd better leave before dark." Like usual, Eponine hopped off the sill to the ground below. With a resigned sigh Marius grabbed his coat and scampered after her, calling her name. 

"'Ponine! Wait up, 'Ponine." In one clumsy motion, he stumbled over the sill. "Just come inside, we can watch a movie or something!" He shouted. When she didn't answer, he sped up to catch up with her. "C'mon! Please don't keep me out too late. It's a school night." It was the last day of summer. 

Unfortunately, he spent the remainder of his final night of summer following Eponine as she meandered through the city, listening to her complain. Slowly, the town began to become less familliar to Marius and more welcoming to Eponine. It was late and he was far away from home. In fact, he hadn't the slightest clue how to get home. "Eponine," He winced eventually, his bravery shot. "Don't you think we should be heading back? This part of town is sorta-" 

She cut him off enthusiastically, "Glorious?" Her booming voice echoed through the empty streets. "Look at this place! I can smell the danger, Pontmercy!" She twirled around, her arms out, revealing tan expanses of skin that showed through the cutouts on the sides of her shirt. There was some indie band logo in faded black and white on the front. The skin-tight army green pants she had squeezed into made her malnourished legs look skeletal. Marius took a mental note to fix her up with some Wheaties when they got back. 

"Seriously, keep it down. If someone catches us-" 

 

Eponine stopped suddenly in the middle of the uneven road.

"Shh!" She yanked him to the ground. "Stay still and don’t make a sound."

"Eponine!" he peeped. 

Footsteps sloshed in shallow puddles of rain water collected in the crevices of the pavement. 

"Quiet!" She demanded in a hushed voice. In silence, they waited, listening to the soft sounds of another presence that the darkness nearly masked. Eponine kept a tight grip on Marius's girlish bicep. In the dim light the night sky supplied, Marius watched Eponine's lifeless eyes squint shut. The footsteps got closer, louder- and then faraway and nearly inaudible.

"I think it's gone." Eponine cautiously stood. Still shivering in fear, Marius nervously staggered to his feet. 

"You sure?" Unfortunately, his voice was just a bit too loud. 

"Who’s there?" A gruff voice penetrated the quiet but tense atmosphere, sending shockwaves through their bones.

"Run!" Eponine cried. Not wasting any time, Eponine grasped Marius's hand and tugged him along behind her. The puddles erupted under their feet, echoed by the splashing of their pursuer. They dashed around corners, buildings and meanuvered through the network of streets in their laborious efforts to escape. Poor Marius's arm nearly popped off when whenever Eponine jerked to the left. Steadily, the city melted away, leaving them to scurry leaving them scurrying down an open road. Ahead of them, a modest house slept, peacefully guarded by an iron fence that was being strangled by gorgeously overgrown, blossoming vines. 

"Don't slow down now! Just a little further!" Eponine hissed through crooked teeth. "We'll hide in that garden." She pointed to the house with the gate and untamed plants. Trespassing? Was that really how they were going to escape this crazy man? Marius was almost certain that they were being chased by Javert, the officer who was always after Eponine and her family. Because he didn't want to get Eponine thrown into the slammer (again), he followed her to the swirling iron gate. 

Both of them began scaling the gate, hearts racing, wanting to pant, but not daring to take a breath. Eponine was much quicker than Marius and swung her frail body over the gate to the safety of the garden with practiced ease. "Hurry!" She called, before ducking between a shadowy bush and a the concrete wall beside the iron gate. Hands searching for something to grip, Marius began to panic. Behind him, he could hear the man’s running footsteps drawing ever nearer. The sweat on his hands made his climb tougher; he could feel himself beginning to slip.

"'Ponine!" he wailed from the top of the gate. Suddenly, a harsh hand clawed at his sneaker, and with a final scream, much shriller than anything Eponine had ever imagined him capable of producing, he tipped over the top of the gate. The gate trembled as he slammed against the overgrown grass in a heap, earning plenty of bumps, scrapes, and bruises. 

"Ow!" he moaned, rubbing his head as if it might actually prevent the concussion that the fall had undoubtedly caused. Disoriented, he sluggishly rose to his mangled feet, every fiber of his being aching. That's when he looked towards the house and realized the garden was not just teeming with unkempt plantlife. He wasn't alone.

In a pristine white dress that accentuated her soft lines, with the widest, loveliest sapphire eyes glimmering on her pale face, she stood frozen. Her skin was flawless and had a ghostly beauty in the moonlight. Her golden hair was braided loosely with a strip of fine lace woven between the shimmering strands in a way that made her appear absolutely angelic. A gasp had just fallen out of her rapturously pink lips; her dainty hands were flexed in fear. Something about her enchanting glow reminded him of someone he once knew. Marius was speechless, but he could feel himself smiling like a fool. "Are you an angel?” he blurted, and then flushed red up to his ears. Her terrified expression dissolved, and a delightful smile crept onto her face.

"That's very flattering, but if my father sees you here-" 

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry! I promise I'm not like a murderer or anything. I was just running away from a police officer, and-" The girl’s eyes widened again. "No! I'm not like a criminal- It's just- I was- My friend 'Ponine- Ugh!" He slapped his palm against his freckled face in exasperation at his inarticulateness. "Look, you just sort of have to know me to understand that I just get tangled up in bad situations at times." 

For a long, wonderfully serene moment suspended between them, the two gazed at each other, ignoring the rest of the world. Marius was in love with her. With her perfume, her hair, her eyes, her delicate features, her sweet voice that sounded like a singing bird. Maybe it was shallow to love someone based on their looks, but Marius knew this girl was more than just a pretty face. "So... um.. hi." he said breathily. 

"Hi,” she whispered, and giggled.

From inside the house, a manly voice called for her. "Cosette! It's getting late." Her head turned to look in the direction of the voice and then she looked back at Marius. She glanced towards the house, and then looked back at Marius.

"I have to go." She gazed at him, almost pained. Before Marius could search for something poetic to stutter, the girl glided into the house, leaving him dazed. Overjoyed, Marius fell back onto the tall grass. He had finally found her and she was an angel. He looked at the stars, admiring their unsystematic patterns. Not even all the stars in the galaxy could compare to her celestial highness in Marius's dizzy mind. 

"That's enough, lover boy," Eponine grumbled after slinking out from behind the bush. 

"She's perfect, 'Ponine." Marius clasped his hands behind his head and sighed. 

"Her?"Instead of the defensive, jeering tone he’d expected, Eponine’s voice was shattered. He glanced up, surprised, but she had her old smirk in place again, even if it was a bit strained. "C'mon, Pontmercy, let's go home. The cop’s long gone.- Marius bounced up enthusiastically.

"Wasn't she just the loveliest thing you ever saw?" Marius chirped as Eponine carefully opened the gate, trying to keep the inevitable squeaking to a minimum. 

"Yep." 

"And her eyes! Uh! Absolutely marvelous!" Marius skipped out of the gate, Eponine shuffling behind him. 

"Totally." she snarked. Even as their outlines faded out of view of the house, Marius’ faint babbling and Eponine’s half-hearted responses carried through the still night.

This was going to be a long walk home.


	2. Chapter 2

The buttery aroma, soft humming and warmth radiating of the stove in the cluttered kitchen could only mean one thing: Cosette was preparing her annual first-day-of-school breakfast. Each and every year, Cosette rises in tandem with the sun to cook breakfast for her brother, Enjolras, and their father. The tradition dates back to the dawn of time (okay, maybe more like second grade) when she first snuck down to the kitchen and whipped up some charred bacon, pancakes with mushy, undercooked centers, and scrambled eggs, extra shell. Valjean had just been thankful that she didn't set the house on fire. Fortunately for their stomachs, Cosette had since made it her mission to become a good cook, and with every passing year, the meal became more and more delicious. Today, her breakfasts are based off complex gluten-free recipes collected from Pinterest

"Who’s that beautiful girl I see in my kitchen?" Cosette could hear her Father's smile in his rich voice. Her father was quite possibly the most loving man she had ever met; he’d scooped two orphans off the street without a doubt in his welcoming heart and he cares for them with all the strength in his soul

"Good morning, Papa,” she hummed, not daring to take her eyes off the eggs she was stirring with a spatula. 

The day Valjean adopted Cosette had been the best day of her life.Still too small for the oversized broom the Thenardiers gave her to sweep with, Valjean with his hair sprinkled with fluffy, white snow had seemed to her a creature out of a fairy tale. She remembered it was Christmas eve, the night was still and yet, her heart was racing. Mme Thenardier who had immigrated from France ages ago, but insists on being a Madame and not a Mrs.) had sent her off into town on some rusty bicycle that moaned and creaked as she rode to the nearest Starbucks. The Thenardiers were at the peak off their career; the husband and wife duo ran a moderately succesful but impressively'rancid motel known for its rickety beds and bedding, carpet straight from the 70’s, and false claims of continental breakfasts and free Wi-Fi. Mme Thenardier’s tricks and schemes were enough to pay for the luxury of her daily frappucino. Part of Cosette's 'job description', other than being a human footstool, was to pick up said order. 

The snow flurried around her as she pedaled on the shoveled sidewalks. Ice coated the concrete, snowflakes landed in her short, tangled hair, her tattered pants were not enough protection from the bitter cold; the poor thing only had fingerless gloves to keep her hands from turning into ice! Her excessive shiver certainly not benefiting her steering. A mix of gusting, arctic winds, slippery ice and her shaky hands caused her bike to wobble. She cried out as her bike tipped over into a bank of slushy snow. The snow soaked through her worn clothes in seconds; she’d get hypothermia for sure now.

Sputtering, Cosette rubbed her eyes open just as a large, unidentified silhouette loomed above her). A frieghtened shutter slipped out of Cosette's obident mouth before she could stop it. Mme Thenardierout had taught her that any unnecessary noises, such as gasping, crying, shivering, talking, hiccuping and snoring, were completely unacceptable. If she made any of those sounds, she would face whatever cruel punishment Mme Thenairder saw fit. Quickly, she cupped her hands over her mouth, hoping she wouldn't get in trouble. The figure stood there, not making any advances to further startle the child buried in snow, securely clutching her light-weight bike in his hands. 

"Don't be scared," he instructed her in a soft, comforting voice. Something about the sincerity in his musical tone made Cosette trust him. "What're you doing out, alone in the cold on Christmas?" 

"I fell," she sniffed. When she attempted to stand in the slippery snow, the man extended a hand to pull her up on her swollen, bare feet. The man set her bike on the sidewalk and dusted away the snow on the seat. 

"Do you need to call your parents? I can't allow you to ride that bike all the way home in this." The man slowly become less shadowy and Cosette could make out some of his wrinkled features. He wasn't terribly old, but definitely into his forties by the looks of his graying roots. Although tired, his eyes had a natural kindness flickering within their brown depths.

"Oh no, mister!" Cosette panicked. "If I don't bring Madame back her coffee-" The underfed child stopped midsentence, unable to put into the words the horrors waiting for her at the slimy motel. 

"Madame?" he asked to which she hurriedly nodded. 

"Yes, Mme Thenardier,” she elaborated. All the sudden a spark ignited on the man's face, his exhausted features became lively, like he had found exactly what he was looking for. He had found the child he had sworn to protect. 

"Fantine's son." He murmured just loudly enough for it to register in Cosette's frost-bitten ears. The word son stung her more than the piercing snow she had tumbled into. She couldn't really blame the stranger for misgendering her; from the outside she looked like a boy. But she wasn't a boy. Sure, she had the parts, but on the inside, where it truly counts, she felt like a girl. The man must have not noticed the pink barrette she had clipped onto the hem of her boyish shirt to indicate her gender to the outside world. She wore that barrette everywhere she went as a sort of girl-badge, in a quiet attempt to tell the world that she was, in fact, a girl.

The rest was history. He took Cosette back to the motel and negotiated a deal so he could take her to safety, as he had promised. 

Nine years later, there they were, Cosette in a lacy dress and curled hair, with her father still by her side. 

"Mornin'." A groggy sound came stomping down the steps. Enjolras was not a morning person. Unfortunately, his distaste for morning had cursed) him with the inability to pick out a decent outfit. He came trudging down the steps in one of Valjean's God-awful turtlenecks that must have wound up in Enjolras's closet by mistake, paired with ill-fitting sweatpants and his scuffed red sneakers. 

"What're you wearing?" Cosette rolled her shimmering eyes. 

"What?" Enjolras defended his fashion choices. "It's casual." 

"Lazy, is what it is,” Cosette corrected him. Turning to her father, she said, "Papa, will you keep an eye on this while I help your fashion delinquent of a son dress himself?" It was no secret that Cosette strove) to be the most fashionable Cosette possible. The Valjean household would probably be even wealthier if Cosette didn't insist on cleaning out Valjean's wallet with her excessive) need for a wild mixture of animal prints, bedazzled pockets, high-end products, and gems from thrift stores. The girl had a full closet to say the least. 

Valjean took control of the eggs while Cosette shooed Enjolras back upstairs to his bedroom. For some reason, Enjolras's room was bland, clothes on the ground in wrinkled blobs, a few cause posters tacked to the uncovered wood paneling, plenty of red, a stocked book shelf and a desk with mounds of miscellanious papers; Cosette, on the other hand, lived in a well-decorated, neat room full of unique trinkets. The most unique thing Enjolras had in his room was the cactus Grantaire gave him that hung out near his shadeless lamp on the desk by the window. 

"Enjolras, do you think I could write off all the times I've picked out your clothes as community service?” she) asked as she gracefully avoided the monstrous) piles of dirty clothes. Enjolras just rolled his eyes at her. In truth, Cosette was a bit of a pest, always telling their father about how he got in trouble at school by piecing together clues and bits of conversation (she had always been homeschooled while Enjolras insisted he go to a public school) and complaining about the lack of effort he puts into his appearance; despite this, Cosette was the sweetest, most caring little bundle of preciousness he could ask for as his little sister. Cosette had a deep fondness for her brother as well, ever since she first met him.

It had been a spring day; Cosette) was skipping around the town with her Papa trailing behind. They rarely went into the busier, more urban parts of the city, so this was an adventure for Cosette. At the time, she was still living as a boy, and she kept her pink barette attached to an article of clothing at all times, a ritual Valjean did not dare question. 

"Hurry, Papa!" Her bright young voice rang through the crowded streets. "Woah!" She skidded to a stop in front of a vibrant purple flower to admire its simplistic beauty. Maybe no one will notice if I just take it, she thought. Looking over her shoulder to make sure no one would see, Cosette plucked the flower and tucked it carefully behind her ear. She continued galloping through the streets, passing by grafitti, smokers, and homeless men without worry.

Out of nowhere, a reckless boy with the most radiant blond curls and a baggy red sweatshirt hanging over his twiggy frame came flying over a brick wall.) Cars swerved around him as he bounded across the street, desperate to escape from something. He ducked swiftly under the first bench he came to. The boy moved with excellent grace from what Cosette could tell with her young eyes. To her surprise, no one was chasing after him; he was running from nothing, or worse, someone who didn't care enough to chase after him. He looked a few years older than Cosette, and taller, not to mention his obviously superior hair. Still, he was too young to be sprinting across streets infested with heavy traffic in the shadier parts of towns without a parent. Why weren't his parents scolding him from afar while they tried to track him down? She had far too many questions to just prance past, so she enthusiastically hopped onto the bench.

"What're you doing?" She was on her knees, toosh to the sky, clutching the gummy bottom edge of the bench, leaning over to meet the boy’s dazzling blue eyes. 

"Wevolting,” he grumbled, with arms folded across his chest. One of his eyes was swollen, with a smudgy black border.

"What happened to your eye?" Cosette made an eye-patch with her hand to display what she was talking about. 

"Daddy." 

"Your Papa made your eye all black?" Cosette gasped, and leaned in to get a better look at his injury.

"Go away." He turned his face before flapping his hand at her in a shooing motion. Pouting, he clutched his puffy eye. 

"What's your name?" Cosette quirked her upside down head slightly to one side. 

"I said go away!” the golden-haired boy snarled.

"And I said what's your name?" Cosette was not fazed by his harshness; she kept her approachable smile firmly in place.

"Enjolwas,” he spat, the R in his name mellowed by his speech inpediment. 

"I'm Eugene, except I don't like Eugene. I like Euphrasie. Ooh! And Cosette!" she bumbled. "I'm six and a half." 

"I'm eight." He sank further under the bench and twiddled his thumbs, fearing that Cosette was going to keep the blabbering up in a constant stream. A thought for further conversation flashed into her mind, but was intercepted by her father.

"Eugene!” he panted. Cosette must have been a lot further ahead than she’d realized; her father looked like he’d been chasing her for blocks. Cosette straightened up to sit on her heels. "Don't you dare run off from me again! Do you understand young man? Do you understand, young man?” he scolded. Unfortunately, his tough exterior had nothing to defend against the power of Cosette’s puppy-dog eyes.

"Wait!" Cosette whined. "What about Enjolwas?" She mimicked his voice, thinking was the way his name was pronounced. 

"Enjolras?" Confused, Valjean raised his eyebrow. Cosette took that as her cue to point at the scraggly little boy under the bench she was sitting cross-legged on top of. Sure enough, when Valjean crouched down to inspect, a grumpy little boy with a glossy black eye was slouched below the planks of wood. 

"He said his Papa did that. He made his eye all darkish and stuff." Those few words had a ripple effect that changed the fabric of Cosette's life forever. After that, Valjean got in contact with CPS. With no relatives willing to take Enjolras in, the rebelious, problem childchild was shipped off to a foster home. Enjolras's dad, who was a multimillionaire, was able to buy his way out of any trouble and carry on with his life by getting his wife a boob job. Valjean immediately swooped in and adopted Enjolras out of the rare compassion he possessed.

Everything had worked out swimmingly; Cosette and Enjolras meshed well from the start – and she’s always there to dress him up. "Perfect!" she chirped, smoothing his shirt. For today, she had him in his iconic red jeans, a translucent, white v-neck with a grey cardigan and a fashionable scarf. "You look amazing!" 

"Really?"

Cosette watched him check himself out in the mirror; he stroked his tight jeans that accented his gracefully shape with the palms of his hands. "Oh, yeah,” she assured him. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see the girls in your class drooling.” Popping up on tiptoes, she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, and before he had time to blush she was off.

Downstairs, the kitchen was flooded by the crisp golden light of the late summer morning. Valjean was setting the table. Cosette’s breakfast was all ready. "Papa, you shouldn't have!” she gushed as he put out the final set of silverware at Enjolras's usual seat. Traditionally, Cosette was the one to set the table for five diners before her breakfast, the two extra place settings being for Enjolras's two best friends, Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Combeferre started coming to their breakfasts in sixth grade, even though they had been best friends since before he’d met Cosette, and Courfeyrac started coming the next year. He’d known Enjolras nearly as long as Combeferre, and so he often acted jokingly offended that he hadn’t been invited sooner.

"You were busy, I had to put the food somewhere,” her father teased. Cosette joined him by loading up the empty spaces on the table with an assortment of breakfast dishes. 

The doorbell disrupted the peace. Cosette didn’t even have time to take a step to answer it; apparently Courfeyrac couldn’t possibly wait another second, and burst through the door without being welcomed in. "Good morning!" he sang out. Courfeyrac was a smallish Italian with gorgeous dark coloring and wonderful spiraling black hair. He had a creative style consisting of button-downs, bow ties, suspenders and the tightest jeans in town. Seldom was Courfeyrac seen without his ukulele and his iconic shades. Combeferre was less out-there. Much taller and fairer skinned than Courfeyrac, Combeferre dressed himself in argyle sweater-vests, bulky prescription glasses and slacks. If he was without a book, calling an ambulance might not be an irrational thought.

"Combeferre! Courfeyrac!" Cosette cheered, and abandoned her arranging in favor of tackling them with friendly hugs. "How are you?" She and Courfeyrac shared a quick eskimo kiss before she moved on to admire Combeferre's sweater vest of the day. 

"Just dandy!" Courfeyrac beamed. "Look who it is!" He glanced past Cosette to see Enjolras in his sexy little outfit and gave a whistle. "Enjolras, you look- wow."

"I know!" Cosette chimed. "I dressed him myself!"

"Well done." Courfeyrac continued to check him out in a less than discreet manner. 

"That's enough, Courf." Combeferre steered him towards the kitchen. Like the happy family they were, they gathered around the dinner table to feast on the pinnacle of Cosette's culinary prowess.

"So, Courfeyrac," Valjean began as he poured orange juice into a tall glass. "How are your mothers?"

"Hella rad!" For some reason Courfeyrac didn't think responding to an adult with that phrase was in any way disrespectful. "We're actually having a party for their anniversary this weekend. You should all come so I'm not bored out of my mind,” he said between mouthfuls of bacon.

"We'll be there." Cosette promised, stirring a generous helping of sugar into her Seahorses Against Gender Roles mug. Smallchat took off easily; they covered every topic, from Combeferre’s plans for college to Enjolras’ shampoo, a homemade blend courtesy of Feuilly. The time ticked past, and Combeferre finally glanced at his ornate watch.

"Looks like it's time to head out." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

"Bye, Mr. Valjean!" Courfeyrac hopped up out of his chair to follow Combeferre. The blondes were still. Courfeyrac paused. “You coming, guys?” Enjolras waved him off.

"We'll be out in a minute,” he assured them. Combeferre took Enjolras's order readily, and strolled outside to his beat up, hand-me-down-car. For some reason, Courfeyrac was a little more hesitant; something about Enjolras’ seriousness concerned him, and Cosette looked abruptly as if she might cry. He wanted to stay for moral support. Enjolras shooed him."Seriously, go ahead. We'll be right out." Still unsure, Courfeyrac shuffled out the open door, shutting it softly behind him. 

"Are you ready?" Their Father took them both into an embrace; he was just tall enough, or rather they were just short enough, for him to comfortably drape his arms around their shoulders. Enjolras was quick to make an mmmhmm, but Cosette was unsettlingly quiet. "Cosette?" 

That's when she just fell apart, all her emotions pouring out in streams of heavy tears. Embarrassed, Cosette buried her face into Valjean's chest, gripping the fabric until she had it twisted and soggy. "I'm so s-scared." Her voice was muffled, but audible. "W-what happens if some-some-someone m-makes fun of m-me? What if n-nobody l-likes me?" 

hese were all legitimate fears; she might very likely be bullied, and nobody gets out of highschool without an insult or two - but nobody liking her? Absurd.) Valjean wrapped his muscular arms around her, trying to squeeze the worries out of her. Words were never his strong suit, he couldn't give her comfort with long, eloquent strings of soothing phrases to keep the tears at bay. That was a job for Enjolras. 

“Cosette.” Enjolras took her hand and pulled her gently out of Valjean’s smothering grip. "No more tears." He dragged a tissue under her glimmering eye with one hand still grasping hers. "I'm not going to lie, high school is not going to be easy, you're going to see things you can't unsee, you'll hear things you can't unhear, but you are so strong. No matter what anyone says, you are the most amazing girl I've ever met. You'll always have me and all my friends love you. You're not alone." Overwhelmed, Cosette flung her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek lightly. For a long, satisfying moment, they stood there, soaking in their love for each other. 

"I'm ready." She quivered. "I'm ready!" Cosette repeated loudly enough for her father to hear. As the two walked out, Valjean called his goodbyes and cautioned them to stay safe. 

"Love you!" His voice broke through the shut door. 

"Finally!" Courfeyrac joked, hanging out from the windows of Combeferre's car as they approached. Cosette just giggled it off, slid into the back seat and tried to remain calm, but Enjolras was not happy with Courfeyrac's remark. Combeferre thumped Courfeyrac quickly on the back of the head so Enjolras wouldn’t slit his throat, and Enjolras sat back, appeased. One form of punishment was enough.

The car lurched backwards, and with practiced ease, Combeferre swiftly made his way to the road. For Cosette, the ride to school felt like a lifetime, horrifying thoughts swirled in her mind. What if someone finds out? Will your padding fall out? What words will they use to wound you? They just kept coming. She was beginning to regret her decision to attend public school this year.


	3. Chapter 3

The thing about Marius was that he was sheltered. He had spent his entire life without his parents, homeschooled under the guidance of his snobby Grandfather. His Grandfather was strict and conservative; he was racist, sexist, homophobic, and basically the most unaccepting man Marius had ever known. On top of that, he hated Marius's father, and consequently resented Marius as well. You see, Marius's father was a poor man, with not a penny to his name when he immigrated to the states from India. He was colored and worst of all, a liberal. When Marius's mom fell for him, her father had been furious.Despite what he had to say, the two star-crossed lovers planned on getting married. Unfortunately, after Marius was conceived and before they could elope, Marius's father was deported. His grandfather had been relentless; even as his daughter grieved her loss, he chastised her. After all, she was only eighteen.

Marius's mother, Winnie, decided to see her pregnancy through and raise Marius on her own. She continued highschool and earned a diploma; luckily the graduation robes stretched over her round belly. Immediately following Marius’ birth, Winnie moved out of her father’s toxic house, into her own itty bitty apartment in a cheap part of town. The apartments were right next to a run-down motel that was owned by the Thenairders. His mother worked very hard for everything in life. Nothing was handed to her. Even her boyfriends weren't generous or kind to her. 

Winnie had once been a very pretty girl. Back in high school, she had taken pictures that made her look absolutely radiant. But her pearly white smile soon yellowed with cigarette smoke; her healthy, well-kept hair grew greasy, badly dyed and doused in hairspray. Acne flourished on her once clear skin. Even her figure had been better in high school. 

Another big difference that occurred after Marius was born was her make-up. She went from subtle, natural colors on her eyelids to blackened smokey eyes or vibrant blues. Somedays she was in such a hurry she would accidently mix the two styles, creating the color of a bruise. There were other times when her odd hue would spread to not just in the lid but under her eye as well. Marius wasn't sure how he liked this look. One day, a day when hera eye looked like the eye shadow was outlining her once brilliant eyes, Marius came up to his mother with one of her make up wipes. He told her, "Mommy, your make up is all goofy." And she just started sobbing. Marius now understands that the black and blue was not eye shadow at all. 

Winnie had a lot of boyfriends; none of them were particularly good to her-which makes Marius wonder if his father was good to her. He hopes he was, and that she lowered her standards after he left. Her boyfriends weren't nice to him either. In fact, he still has a scar on his calf from when a particularly nasty one threw a beer bottle at him. But the most vivid memory was also the one that burned the worst. He had been left unharmed; and yet it ached to remember. It was the same boyfriend who threw the bottle that shattered against his leg. He got really mad at Winnie because she got pot from someone other than him. Things got violent. Fast. He shoved her into the bedroom, tears streaking her face. Marius followed. He crept in and saw her being slashed by his bulky knuckles. 

"Marius!” she bawled. "Marius, get out!" His eyes widened to soak in the frightful scene. When he didn't move, Winnie was over taken by adrenaline and she was able to break free long enough to push him into the closet. “Stay in there!” she ordered, voice trembling, even as a thickly muscled arm wrenched her away. “Just stay in there – “

It wasn't until morning that Marius crawled out of the closet. The bedroom was empty, the bedding had been kicked to the bottom of the bed. A leather belt that belonged to the boyfriend was still on the stained carpet. Scratches from her fingernails marked up the head board. A blanket trailing behind him, Marius waddled out of the bedroom and to the bathroom. "Mommy?" He called. Slowly, he creaked the bathroom door open. What he saw on the tile floor was an image that no amount of therapy could ever erase. His naked mother was lying dead on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles of pills. That same day, police carted him off to live with his Grandfather. 

Marius had never known his father; but in the spring of his freshman year, a battered letter postmarked from Bombay had turned up in the mail, informing him in clipped tones of the death of a Sr. Pontmercy.

After such a traumatic beginning, Marius was sort of glad he was sheltered. But now – after he’d met her in that garden, the girl who answered to the name Cosette – all he wanted to do was to see the world, to see her. Coincidentally, he too had planned for this year to be his public school debut. There was a big chance she was going to be attending the same high school, but Marius tried not to get his hopes up. Maybe she was homeschooled, or had a boyfriend, or wasn’t as beautiful as the moonlight had made her out.

Somehow, Marius, clumsy Marius, had managed to get his hands on a driver’s license over the summer. The drive to school put his natural auto-pilot to the test. With all the dizzying dreams of Cosette he had fluttering around in his head, there was no way he could focus on the road. Making it to a parking spot in one piece was quite the feat,considering Cosette was his every thought on his drive. A blaring honk shook him into awareness.

"Hey, kid!" A boy with stylish curly hair stuck his head out of the passenger seat of a rusty old car. "You're in our spot!" 

Well that's just fan-fricking-tastic. Right when he thought he was actually doing okay at this whole high school thing, he had to face the shame of pulling out of an upperclassman’s parking spot. He carefully backed out, thankfully not clashing with the other vehicle. He averted his eyes in hopes if he didn't make eye contact, they wouldn't commit his face to memory and come to beat him up. He didn't even check the tag on the mirror for their parking spot number. 

Marius took a parking spot that was unreserved and stumbled onto the pavement. There was a swarm of unfamiliar faces, some laughing and joking with other happy people and others sulking in a ring of goth kids. Some were holding hands with their girlfriend or boyfriend while others were chasing after their friend in a game of grab-ass. But none of them, none of them were alone. 

Except Marius. He was alone. No matter how many people were shoved in his face, he didn't feel connected to anyone here. Hopefully that would change. 

“Hey, Pontmercy,” A smoke damaged voice snickered from behind him. He turned to find Eponine in a burgundy romper that hung loosely on her bonyon figure. "You look sharp today." She eyed him from his black Vans to his bland sweater vest. 

"Thanks. I like your- whatever that is." He pointed at her romper. She couldn’t blame him; it sort of looked like a dress at first glance, but after your eyes adjust, the shorts become prominent.

"Romper." She smiled with crooked teeth. "C'mon, kid. Let's get a move on. You wouldn't want to miss your first class, would ya?" Without further ado, she groped his tan wrist and tugged him towards the daunting school. Eponine was truly a reliable friend; no matter how little Marius gave of himself, she gave him everything. She made him smile when he started to tear up; she took him on all sorts of adventures...even if she was a little bitter, Marius knew that Eponine would always put others before herself.

"What's your first class?" Eponine thumbed at her wrinkled schedule, skimming over the order of her classes once again as they entered the bustling building. Students scurried across the glossy tile with their schedules in hand. 

"Science with Lauper, Room 212." Marius boggled at the outlandish number. Was there really over 200 rooms at this school? Of course not, Eponine would later tell him with a snort. The second floor rooms were all 200s. Each hall was its own set of ten. The biggest number was 245 and the lowest was 110. 

"Too bad. I've got Social Studies with Jude, Room 214, then I've got Lauper for second period." They scaled the stairs. 

"Looks like we have our first two classes reversed." Marius dragged his finger across the second period slot. Eponine peeked over to investigate and confirm. "Then I have  
Calculus with Stapelton, lunch, Home-Ec with Muligan, Gym, and then English with Arwin." 

"We've got Home-Ec and Gym together. I hear Muligan will eat nerdy little Indian boys like you right up. Watch yourself." She smirked before they parted ways, and swaggered into the Social Studies classroom confidently. Marius didn't even know how to swagger, let alone do it with confidence. With a relieved sigh, Marius squinted his eyes shut to think.

Just make one friend, one friend, and you might actually be happy. Just move. Don't psych yourself out with the big picture. Don't think about the end result, just focus on this one step, then it's not so hard. 

Hesitantly, Marius shuffled towards the open door of the cool, industrial Science classroom. With one glance, he could tell that high school was definitelynot the height of sophistication; there were kids playing leapfrog on the desks, for goodness’ sake! What first day of sophomore year would be complete without some idiot sending a flaming paper airplane haphazardly across the room? Not Marius'.

Most of the desks had been reserved by stacks of books, binders and pencils, with the occasional poorly hidden cigarette. The glossy plastic surfaces were undoubtedly crawling with all kinds of bacteria. He spotted an open desk near the front of the class next to the boy who had popped his curly haired head out the old clunker’s window in the parking lot early this morning and another boy in a feminine sweater and floral skinny jeans. He even had his blonde hair pulled into a neat side braid. Lazily, the boy with the braid stroked the other boy’s fingernails with electric blue nail polish. 

"Your hair is getting long again," the curly haired boy noted casually. 

"Yeah, I'm thinking of cutting it." 

"I like your hair long! Screw gender norms! If girls can rock the pixie and still be adorable, why can't a guy have a rad braid and still be drool worthy?" The conversation dissolved in mutual smiles before the long-haired boy with a discrete blush blooming on his freckled face focused in once again on his painting.

This your chance, just say hi.

"What're you staring at?" Braid-boy asked with head tilted in curiosity.   
Crap.

Marius hadn't realized he had been standing in front of them, staring, with his mouth hanging open, ready for words to pour out for a solid minute and a half in silence. Now he was aware of how dumb he looked as he tried to piece together an articulate sentence. They weren't getting any more patient. Especially not the one with the blonde braid; Marius’ silence only seemed to intrigue him more.

"Um, hi,” he stuttered and then kicked himself for stuttering over one word and a sound that made him sound so very unintelligent. Like seriously, who does that?

"Hi?" The braid-boy crinkled his speckled nose, obviously disappointed by the uninspiring answer, and gave him a half-hearted wave.

"Can I sit here?" Marius pointed at the desk he’d already plopped his stuff down on. 

“It’s your life.” He smiled slightly, not looking up from the fingernails he was coating with blue.

Way to go, Marius. The first day and the weird kid with the nail polish already hates you. 

Just as Marius was certain he hand single-handedly destroyed his chance at a positive high school experience, the other boy, the one with spiraling dark hair who had shooed him out of his initial parking spot, decided to speak. "Wait! Are you the kid who was in 'Ferre's spot this morning?" 

"Unfortunately, yes,” he admitted in shame. 

"Hey, don't get yourself down, no harm done! By the way, nice sweater vest." No one had ever told Marius his sweater vest was nice in sincerity. It was a welcomed change. 

"Thanks."

“So.” He scooted closer, making braid-boy's hand slip from its delicate work. "Are you new or something?" Marius was not exactly sure what 'or something' was supposed to mean, but any conversation was a step in the right direction. 

"Yeah, I was home schooled for a while, now I'm here. I'm a sophomore, by the way." 

"Nuh-uh!" The boy with the braid interjected. "This is an all Senior class!" 

"Well, I took this class last year at Homelink. I'm in advanced classes." Marius was beginning to fear he was sounding too cocky; arrogance tended to rub people the wrong way. Thankfully, neither of them seemed to bothered by it. 

The sudden arrival of the teacher triggered the rowdy students to mosey to their chairs and keep their volume down. Braid-boy screwed the cap-brush combination into the bottle before tossing it in his backpack. The Italian with dark curls turned to the front, then briefly back to Marius. 

“I’m Courfeyrac,” he whispered.

"Marius." Marius reached out to shake his hand but Courfeyrac curled his hand into a fist for a more laid back fist bump. 

"That's Jehan, by the way. We're basically best bros, but I have a lot of best bros, so don't be alarmed when I call all my friends that,” Courfeyrac clarifed. A smile flashed, once on his cheerful (and quite frankly handsome) face,a nd he turned back around. 

Class seemed to drag on for ages since the teacher lectured them for the entire hour about classroom expectations, future projects, and units in a complete monotone. Marius passed the time by fantasizing about Courfeyrac introducing him to all his friends or becoming best friends with him or going on crazy adventures around town. 

The teacher seemed nice enough despite the boring beginnings. He wore a pastel purple button-up and a thin black tie with black slacks. Part of him seemed very antsy and frantic, but Marius could tell he would become more comfortable with the group as time progressed. "Any questions?" He clapped his hands together near the end of the period. A few hands rose cautiously with questions that - if they had actually been listening – had already been answered.

Jehan looked extremely annoyed when someone asked about the evolution unit. "Stop trying to make evolution happen, it's not going to happen,” he gruumbled just loud enough to cue a few muffled chuckles. Marius didn't quite understand why that was funny; it was probably a reference from a movie he hadn't seen or something. 

The bell sounded, the crowd shifted, and the classes poured into the halls. Marius marched out, hoping someone would walk with him so he wouldn't have to brave the swarm alone. "Hey! Marius! Wait up!" Courfeyrac called. 

Thank God. 

A satisfied grin crossed Marius' face,and he whirled around. Jehan was next to Courfeyrac, eyes glued to his schedule. "I'll see you at lunch. I have Orchestra." Jehan stroked Courfeyrac's arm to say good bye, and walked off gracefully. 

"Let me walk you to your locker at least, kid!" Courfeyrac zipped over to Marius.

"Alright." His smile only grow brighter. In step with each other, the two moved through the masses all the way to Marius's dusty, grey locker. It was just Marius's luck that he would be assigned a bottom locker. While he crouched down to toy with the spinning lock, Courfeyrac leaned against the locker above, looking like the most dapper boy alive. 

"So, what's your next class?"

"Social studies with Jude." He pried the door open and grabbed an argyle book cover. 

"You have a book cover on the first day?" Marius nodded. Why wouldn't he? They were all going to need them sooner or later! "Well then, aren't we on top of it! C'mon, I've got Social Studies too." Instead of causing a ruckus and slamming it shut, Marius gently pressed his locker door closed. 

Turns out, Courfeyrac and Marius had every class together even though they were in separate grades. Truthfully Marius had taken all Junior classes last year as a freshman and was now taking strictly Senior courses. Courfeyrac was actually really smart; he’d just decided not to take advanced classes since he was so busy with all his theatre. Throughout the first half of their day, the two got to know each other and became fast friends with ease. It was really all thanks to Courfeyrac’s need to spread his love around, to make everyone feel comfortable; Marius could feel a real connection between them.

"You should sit with me at lunch,” Courfeyrac offered nonchalantly as they strolled out of third period. 

"Me?" Marius did a double-take.

"No!" Courfeyrac sarcastically snarked, rolling his hazel eyes. Marius, untrained in the arts of sarcasm, turned away, sulkily. "Marius!" Courfeyrac yanked him back toward him. "Of course you. C'mon, my friends don't bite. Usually."

That was not reassuring at all for a nervous wreck like Marius. He could feel the jittering start up in his fingers; meeting so many new people, especially people who were so close, who might spend the entire time laughing at inside jokes he could never understand – it was one of the most stressful things Marius could imagine. Hopefully Courfeyrac wouldn’t notice Marius’ hitched breathing and sudden clamminess.

"Marius?" Courfeyrac noticed Marius's face go pale. 

"Huh?" Marius jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Dude, are you okay?" The concern was genuine. Courfeyrac stopped in the middle of the hallway, not even taking into consideration that people were trying to keep up the flow of traffic in the hall.

Nope.

"Um, yeah." He tried to move forward.

“You hesitated,” Courfeyrac noted, pulling Marius back. "Seriously, you can tell me what's up."

The concept felt deeply foreign to Marius. He’d never had anyone other than Eponine care about his feelings or bother to ask even when he was visibly upset. Marius was far too awkward to just start talking about his social anxiety, so he stuttered, made inconclusive hand motions, rubbed the back of his neck, and tried to change the subject. 

"Be real with me." That's all it took. Marius broke down into uncontrollable tears, and believe me, the kid was not a pretty crier. No questions asked, Courfeyrac wrapped his arms around his lanky body. His hands carded through Marius's hair soothingly as he cooed words of comfort into his ear. 

“I’m sorry,” Marius sniffled into Courfeyrac's chest. 

"Don't apologize!" He pulled away, placing his hands on Marius's shoulders. 

"I j-just get really w-worried a-a-about meeting n-new people." 

"No worries! We don't have to eat with them!" Courfeyrac assured him. 

"N-no." He wiped away a tear. "Don't let m-me spoil the f-fun."

"Marius, they're my best friends, they'll understand. C'mon, the librarian loves me, she'll let us eat in the library." Courfeyrac slung his arm around Marius to make him feel a little more secure. No one had ever made him feel so comfortable. Courfeyrac didn’t seem weirded out by his crying – he hadn’t laughed, or acted awkwardly; he was understanding; he was there for him. Marius was beginning to like this whole friend thing.

 

\---

 

To Marius' delight, the library was absolutely marvelous. It was full of warm colored woods and towering, regal bookcases. The computers were hidden in one corner as not to disturb the elegant, castle-like charm. Coufeyrac and Marius were chilling in an alley between two monstrous shelves with ornate carvings decorating the sides, lunches spread out in front of them. "See? You didn't spoil the fun! This was actually really cool to hang out here with you for lunch." Playfully, Courfeyrac gave him a light punch on the arm. 

Marius smiled from behind a sandwich he was sinking his teeth into. For a few moment of companionable silence, the two sat there picking at their lunches. Courfeyrac had a handwritten note from his moms that Marius secretly envied. Also, Courfeyrac wasn't embarrassed by it, which made Marius envy him even more. He must have a pretty sweet relationship with his parents.

When he finished his meal, Marius dabbed his face with a napkin and got up to throw away his garbage. There was a garbage can conveniently located right beside the desk. As he strolled over to it, whistling some horrible Top 40 Hit, he was suddenly shocked out of his lunchtime daze.

It was her.

She floated into the library in a stunning peach dress that was completely lace. Nude pumps gave her a good three inches on top of her below average height. Her eyes popped, with long, lavish, lashes surrounding their sapphire beauty. 

At first he was awestruck, but then he was terrified. He dove back behind the bookshelf without tossing his trash. "Courfeyrac!” he squealed. 

"Oh no! You're not going to start crying again, are you?" 

"No! Now quiet!" Marius clasped his hand over Courfeyrac's mouth anxiously. Immediately, Courfeyrac's tongue flicked out to lick his hand, causing Marius to squirm off of him.

"Why?" He stood.

"Her!" Marius leaped up to tackle Courfeyrac onto the ground and point her out through a gap in the book on the bottom shelf. "I was running away from a cop- not what it sounds like- and I broke into her garden- also not as bad as it sounds- and I think I'm in love with her!" 

A devilish grin formed on Courfeyrac's dashing face as he gazed at Cosette from the floor. "You're in love with Cosette?"

"You know her?" This could be... a really good thing. If Courfeyrac knew Cosette, he could give Marius advice that was unique to her own perfect self rather than generic pickup lines.

"Yeah, she's a freshman." Courfeyrac pushed another book aside to get a better view. 

"Please tell me she's as lovely as she looks!" Marius pleaded.

"D'aw!" Courfeyrac loved romance; love was definitely his all-time favorite thing. Seeing a cutie like Marius head-over-heels gave Courfeyrac endless joy. "That's sweet, Marius. And yes, she's literally the nicest person I know! Plus, she can cook!" 

"I don't care if she can cook." He sighed longingly. "I just want to be with her. Will you help me ask her out?" 

Lucky for Marius, match-maker was by far Courfeyrac's favorite game. "Duh!" Starting to get into it, he swivelled towards him in excitement. "Okay, from what I gather she likes bad boys." 

"Bad boys?" Marius quirked a dark eyebrow.

"Yeah boys who are, like, all bad and stuff."

Yes, cause that really explains things in more detail. 

"Go talk to her!" Courfeyrac shooed him away. Clearly Courfeyrac did not fully grasp the concept of social anxiety and being unbearably awkward in general. Marius gathered his courage, making his way towards the radiant blonde. 

All he had to do was say 'hi' and every feeling they shared last night would come flooding back and they would fall in love and live happily ever after. 

Cosette was minding her own business, inspecting a shelf full of teenage romance novels when Marius tapped on her shoulder. She turned around with a wide smile that quickly faded away when she saw him. That could not be a good sign. “Oh. It’s you.” She slipped past him, book in hand.

Stunned, Marius just looked to Courfeyrac for whatever guidance he could give with gestures and whispers. 'Bad boy' is what Courfeyrac mouthed with his hands cupped around his mouth. 

"Wait!" Marius sprinted to a very annoyed Cosette. 

"What?" Her slender, pale arms folded over her chest and she glared at him with daggers for eyes.

"Um. I heard you like bad boys." He switched to his beyond-awkward seductive voice, and leaned against a sign; it tipped treacherously under his weight. She didn't even bat an eye when he stumbled backwards. Had she forgotten last night? Did she not return his feelings? From what he’d gathered, it really seemed like she might have liked him; but apparently not. "I'll have you know I'm bad at pretty much everything." 

Courfeyrac shoved his face into his lunch box to muffle his screaming; this was just flat-out painful to watch. 

"“Look.” Her angelic voice made it clear that she was not feeling the same way as they were last night. "Marius, is it?” He nodded. "You seem like a really sweet guy, but I'm just not interested in having a boyfriend." 

"Oh." He blushed a dark pink hue. "Well, I have been told I have very feminine cheek bones..." 

"No! I don't mean like that!" Cosette defended her sexuality. "I just mean that I don't want to date you." 

Sometimes Marius wondered why he had such rotten luck. If he believed in Hinduism, he’d probably conclude that it was because of something horrendous he’d done in another life. His grandfather, however, had kept him far away from Hindi culture, because God forbid he practice the same religion his father and most of his race did.

The rejection hit him hard. He didn’t want to cry twice on his first day of public school; that would be just pathetic. He struggled for words, but the only sound he was capable of producing was a strangled pant. Abruptly, he took off running, and flew straight to the bathroom, arms flailing and emotions running high. Marius let himself grieve his crushing heartbreak until the bell rang for his next class. 

But tears turned to motivation. No matter how much Cosette ignored, rejected or humiliated him, he wouldn't give up. The feelings he had for her were not average, everyday feelings. This was love, real, painful, heartwrenching, vomit-inducing, beautiful love. And Marius wanted it. All of it.


	4. Chapter 4

"And then he said, 'Please, oh Great One, tell us of the woes of being a rich pampered white boy!' The nerve of some people!"

Enjolras's little anecdotes used to be something Cosette looked forward to and listened to intently, at the edge of her seat. Now that she had seen the true horrors of high school, his stories only reminded her of how he rose-tinted those dirty hallways and the jail cells those cruel teachers tried to pass off as classrooms. Sure, the way he got all riled up when he complained about Grantaire's daily antics - designed solely to snag some some attention from Enjolras - had at one time made Cosette all squeaky-fan-girl, but the routine was getting old. Especially on a day that went as horribly as today. 

First, she fell in something that could only be described as sludge on her way to second period. Apparently, some kid from the cooking class had though it might be fun to show off and steal a carton of eggs and some other miscellaneous baking goods on his way out of class. He and a group of trouble-makers had proceeded to launch eggs at each other and sprinkle powders on the sticky yolks. Or at least that's what Cosette heard when she got to Orchestra, the gooey mess only half dabbed off the hem of her dress. 

But that hadn't been the end of it. No: after she popped a string on her violin, she made her way to her third period class, Science, where some jerk gave her some misogynistic cat-call on her way in. For the rest of the class she was targeted with belittling pet-names. Then came lunch. Not only could she not find a place to sit, but that boy who jumped their gate had found her. There was no denying that he was gorgeous and one of the sweetest boys she had ever met. Feelings were there for both parties, but she really couldn't act on them, not in her situation. When she first saw him, staggering in the garden with an undoubtedly achy back, she was stunned - but that's sort of a lie. 

You see, the day Marius came into her life via falling into a grassy heap, was not the first time they had met. Not by a long shot. It was years ago; not Cosette really didn't expect that Marius would remember her from way back then, especially given all the changes she's gone through since. But when she saw Marius, everything came flooding back. She could feel the sunburn across her nose and hear the chains on the swings squealing as she rocked back and forth. That was ancient history; though part of it made Cosette's stomach tingle with butterflies, another part of those memories, things that Marius had nothing to do with, reminded Cosette of how dark life once was. She didn't need that.

"Cosette?" Valjean looked at her in concern. "Are you feeling alright?" 

she looked down and saw she had been swirling her noodles around absent-mindedly while Enjolras babbled about Grantaire. "Me?"

"Yes, you!" Valjean grinned at her sympathetically. "Did you have a bad day at school?" 

"No." Cosette hastily dodged the question with an uncharacteristically low amount of grace.

"Cosette?" Enjolras interrogated her, knowing she was lying.

"Seriously, I'm fine," Cosette said conclusively. For some reason, Enjolras was left unappeased by that answer, but he returned to rambling comfortably at his father while Cosette's attention flickered in and out of the present. Images of Marius taking her hand and racing to the slide ran rampant in her head. All she could think about was the way he slurped up his grape juice and how his overalls, stained by popsicles, hung on his little body. He was her first crush. And if she's being completely honest, her only. Well, besides the little crushes she used to have on everyone of Enjolras's friends growing up; but those were brief and mere results of the excitement of seeing a boy.

"Drama club?" Valjean suddenly asked Cosette, somewhat relieved by the fact Cosette was making an effort to get involved outside of class. Cosette could infer that Enjolras had decided to take a break from rambling about Grantaire in favor of dragging Cosette into a stimulating conversation. "You went to a Drama club meeting? Honey, that's great!" Valjean said encouragingly. 

"She didn't say much about it on the way home, how'd it go?" Enjolras was a great brother, really. He always tried his best to make Cosette happy. Even though the guy could be pretty thick regarding romance and anything that didn't further 'the cause', he was very intuitive about Cosette's feelings. He already knew it didn't go well, he was just trying to coax it out of her.

"Fine. The teacher seemed really nice." She kept her eyes glued to her dish. When Enjolras opened his full lips to protest, Cosette shot him a pleading look that Valjean didn't catch. Obediently, Enjolras closed his mouth with intense eyes that told Cosette she would be answering all his questions. 

Dinner came to a close soon enough and Cosette sprang to her feet to feverishly scrub all the plates, leaving the men of the house unable to keep up. "It's fine, I've got it," she insisted. Hesitantly, the two backed away and watched Cosette, knowing something was wrong.

By the time Cosette had finished and made her way up to her room, Enjolras was there, waiting for her patiently. He stood at her window, his hand grazing the sill and his back turned to her. She knew this was coming. 

"Cosette," he started. 

"Look, it's not a big deal." She gently shut the door behind her.

"It is a big deal!" Enjolras flipped around with volume and passion in his voice. "I want to help you." Enjolras sat on the bed and patted a spot next to him, prompting her to sit down next to him.

"How?" she sighed, surrendering to Enjolras's convincing charm.

"I know about what happened with the eggs, and Jehan told me about Orchestra, and I can only guess the rest of the day didn't go any better," Enjolras explained. Staring teary-eyed at the floor, Cosette shrugged. She didn't want to talk. "What happened at Drama club?" Enjolras could tell that was the issue. 

As her older brother slung his arm around her trembling shoulders, sniffles became full blown sobbing. Not the kind when you stub your toe, the kind when your whole world comes crashing down around you and there is nothing you can do but watch everything be destroyed.

Drama club was an absolute nightmare. Nothing could've prepared her for the humiliation. There she was, sitting quietly on the stage, cross-legged, surrounded by other talented performers, respectfully minding her own business as the flamboyant drama teacher with the white sweater tied around his shoulders spoke enthusiastically about the upcoming shows he had lined up. According to Courfeyrac, the man was some sort of legend. He'd worked on Broadway in his prime, and even knew Andrew Lloyd Webber. Then he had done something nothing short of horrific (Courfeyrac reports the rumors he's heard during impromptu, backstage gossip sessions, ranging from cussing out a producer, to sleeping with one) and he'd given up his career in humiliation. 

Still, given his professional background, Mr. Palmer was an outstanding director with a detail-oriented mind that strove to go above and beyond his very own high expectations. He even had a display set up in the three aisles facing the stage, with glossy red fabric covering flashy posters of the future shows. One by one he ripped away the coverings with such grace and flare to announce the shows.

"First, my dear talking-props, the fall show." Mr. Palmer, the drama teacher revealed the poster sitting on the first aisle. All the theatre kids applauded his choice in musical: either they actually liked the musical and looked forward to being a part of the production, or, more likely, they were just sucking up to land the lead. Cosette clapped because she actually enjoyed the show. Mr. Palmer had selected the beloved story of love and fantasy, Disney's The Little Mermaid. Regardless of what part she got, even if she ended up on crew, it was gauruaranteed to be a fun show.

"The Little Mermaid," he announced proudly. "For this show, I'm looking for a young actress who not only has an amazing talent, but can truly convey the need to change and have a chance at love." The way Mr. Palmer spoke about theatre with such passion, was nothing less than inspiring. A hand rose in the midst of the crowd.

"Yes?" Mr. Palmer pointed at the twiggy arm with his bright smile firmly in place. "You with the lovely, quiet desperation thing going on." 

"It's Eponine," she introduced herself, her raspy voice emerging from directly behind Cosette. Cosette's heart sank deep into her butterfly infested stomach; what if Eponine recognized her? Years had gone by since she lived with Eponine's family and everything from her name to her hormone balance had changed. "I was just wondering what you consider an actress?" 

"Well, young-hopeful-who'll-probably-have-your-dreams-crushed-before-graduation, the word actress is widely defined as 'a human of the female kind who acts' -whether or not they truly feel beyond the script and into the character's own, personal universe is not specified." He clasped his hands together, scanning the stage for his next question. 

"Sorry, Eugene." She leaned forward to spit a violent whisper into Cosette's ear that flourished a bright pink at the heat of Eponine's breath against her porcelain skin. "Looks like there'll be no confused wishes to change from the waist down for you... well, at least not on stage," she amended with a snicker. That had made it very clear; Eponine certainly remembered her and, for reasons beyond Cosette's understanding, she was holding some sort of grudge. 

"Alright, my little spotlight-crazed-minions," Mr. Palmer continued without a hitch. "For the winter show, I present to you-" He plucked the fabric off of the poster and flicked it into the audience. While a few star-struck girls leapt to fight over the fabric, Cosette admired the poster. It was Rent, another truly great show. 

"Gay!" a boy in the back called with hands cupped around his mouth. Some of the less mature students giggled, and his friends slumming in the back with him exchanged high-fives. 

"Right you are, and may I say that was comedic tin foil?" 

"Don't you mean gold?" 

"No, tin foil." He snorted at his own quip. "As our little jokester kindly pointed out to us, our Winter show is a little controversial, but I assure you, the adult themes will be handled in a way that is sure to be well-received," he promised. A few narrow-minded kids who called themselves Christians raised their hands to express concern and use God to justify their irrational bigotry. Instead of getting angry, Cosette prayed for them, asking God to forgive them for being cruel in his name. 

"Look, Eugene!" Eponine reached over Cosette's shoulder to point at the poster. "Rent. You'd be perfect for Angel." At first, it almost sounded like a compliment, until it wasn't: "I mean you both put the Q in LGBTQXYZ-who the hell cares." It took all of Cosette's strength to keep calm. Eponine's biting words made Cosette's blood boil and her eyes fill with tears. 

"Last but not least, children of the corn," Mr. Palmer began. "Our spring show!"Mr. Palmer unveiled the third and last poster. It read Jekyll and Hyde in lovely black writing that faded into something that looked as if it was carved into flesh with a blade. "Dark, mysterious Jekyll and Hyde." 

"Mr. Palmer!" Eponine waved at him. "Yes?" Mr. Palmer pointed at her. "I think my friend Eugene would make a wonderful Jekyll." Eponine smirked as her gang of scraggly criminals laughed. 

That's all Cosette could take. Tears already streaming down her face, Cosette rushed outside, hoping that somehow the hall would swallow her whole. 

"And then I sat in the girl's bathroom until Eponine came and bullied me out." Cosette rubbed her watery eyes as she told Enjolras the story. "Thankfully, you're always so early and I could get away." Stunned. Enjolras was nothing short of stunned, rattled to his core; the poor boy couldn't imagine how his sister was feeling. Comforting her was not going to be easy. All he could do was hug her as she dampened his v-neck and blubbered on about the horrors of a trans girl's daily life. He hushed her, still gaping in shocked silence. 

"Cosette." Enjolras's voice rattled. "Cosette, I love you so much. You would not believe how much you have changed my life." He soothingly rubbed her back while she only cried harder at his compliments. 

"I love you too," Cosette sniffled. For the entire length of Cosette's story, Enjolras had felt his face growing hot and sweaty, a lump settling into his throat like he had a big pill lodged in his esophagus. He wanted to do something, anything, to make Cosette feel less alone. "I won't let them hurt you anymore," Enjolras promised. "And you have so many people who love you at that school. You've got Jehan in Orchestra, and he adores you. Then Combeferre TA's for your biology class. And Grantaire, he's in your Trig course. They love you, Cosette, and y'know why? Because you're a great girl." Enjolras was frantic, almost panicky as quivering sobs escaped him and he clung to Cosette. 

"You're the best big brother in the world," she murmured. But that wasn't enough for Enjolras. There was something still within him he needed to reveal. Not just for Cosette's sake, but for his own sanity. 

"Can you keep a secret?"

 

\---

 

In a lonely alley, Eponine kept her head down and her hood pulled securely over her intentionally messy, dark hair. It seemed too early for the sun to have already set, but sure enough, Eponine was walking home in the dark. The solitude, the lonely, worn-out, city streets offered was usually a welcomed change of pace, what with her family's shenanigans interrupting her peace constantly, but tonight, the street wasn't the only empty thing. 

What she did to Cosette was sinking in at last. She had been cruel, and for what? To counter the feelings she once harbored? To try to shake her lingering desire once and for all? It had been so long since she would hide at the playground and spy on Cosette and Marius in the sandbox, and still her heart longed for him -her. And now Marius had picked Cosette, it was inevitable that she would return his feelings. 

"Hey, pretty lady." Eponine was startled by a car pulling up beside her and a surly voice coming from an open window. 

Montparnasse.

He was a fashionable little criminal, wasting every dime on the newest trend and pimping his ride. Eponine knew him through what her father claimed to be his 'Business' (a lovely blend of theft and murder). The kid was the youngest, most stylish and least creepy of Eponine's father's crowd, but still the kind of boy a young girl should stay away from. 

"Hello, Montparnasse." With a grumbled greeting, Eponine kept her eyes to the ground and walked on, books clutched to her flat chest. 

"Where you going?" he asked, driving forward to keep up with his prey. 

"Home. I have things to do, Montparnasse. I don't have time for your shit." The faster Eponine strode forward, the easier it was for Montparnasse to keep up with her from his car. 

"Whoa there, girly!" She cringed at the pet-name. "It's cold out there. Let me drive you home, it's the least I can do. I mean, I am headed there anyway." 

Great, now you have to deal with this jerk even longer. 

"No, Montparnasse," she growled. "I can get there myself!" Apparently, the sleaze couldn't take no for an answer. He lurched forward, loosening the pavement beneath his tricked-out tires and coasting to a stop. 

"C'mon babe!" He leaned out the window with a nauseating smirk stretched across his make-up polished face. "What happened to my girl?" Montparnasse snatched at her thin-fingered hands possessively. 

"I'm not your girl." She jerked her hand away. 

"Ouch," he giggled sarcastically. "Stop fighting, 'Ponine. Just get in the car, I won't pull any shit." Eponine and Montparnasse had a long history that he would call a relationship and Eponine would call a long string of abusive situations and assault puncuated by steamy make-out sessions and many shopping sprees. In short, Eponine had lost trust in the fashionista. 

"That's what you say now." Eponine's pace increased. 

"Get in the God damn car, Eponine. I don't need to take your shit!" Montparnasse snarled as the car skidded forward. She whipped her head around and took a long hard look at him. Scrutinizing every detail until she saw past the hair gel and smirk and saw just how skeezy he was. Montparnasse reached out, the beginnings of a storm drizzling on his artificially tan skin. Sighing, Eponine clawed his hand away. An even slimier smile cracked on his face when Eponine clambered into the car. 

"How was school?" he asked, pulling out of the alley and onto the main road. Run-down shops hugging the fraying sides of their neighboring buildings lined the empty street along with evenly spaced, dying trees near the shoulder of the road. Moss climbed walls and crawled across the cracked sidewalk. It was no scenic view, but Eponine stared at the passing pastel, townhouse-style buildings in efforts to avoid any unnecessary eye-contact with the slender man-child clutching his leopard print steering wheel. 

"You'd know if you bothered to show up." She crossed her arms. It was Montparnasse's second senior year and although he had already taken the same courses, he was failing miserably due to the fact he was always at the mall or plotting a murder with Eponine's father when he should be studying. 

"Don't be like that, Eponine," he warned, with a gritted-teeth grin. "Just tell me about school. Who's your boyfriend I saw you hanging around with last night?" 

She tensed as he mentioned Marius. Every since they shook that Eugene kid, she had focused all her attention on him. The older she got, the more often she would cling to her pillow and sob over him, knowing deep down that he'd never feel the same way. Little by little, the feelings she had for Eugene-Cosette- faded away and left her compensating for the loss through Marius, who was just her second choice. These were pretty deep feelings for a six year-old. 

"You mean Marius? He's nothing. Just some goofy boy who lives nearby," she lied hastily. 

"Is he straight?" Montparnasse immediately responded, as if waiting for Eponine's approval to make a move on poor Marius. 

"Considering he's in love with that cookie-cutter Cosette, I'd say he's not interested," she barked. 

"Aren't we a little touchy." Montparnasse rapped his fingers against the steering wheel. 

"Oh, shut up!" she spat, before curling up against the cool glass of the rain-spotted window. For the rest of the ride, neither of them dared speak. Around them, the city grew slightly more lively. Beyond the nice part of town, past the Dairy Queen and a string of small businesses, the infamous neon sign for the Splinter Motel glowed ahead. 

You'd expect that growing up in a Motel must be like an episode of The Suite Life of Zach and Cody, but with that theory, you'd be very wrong. Instead of Mr. Moseby, an uptight but good-natured hotel manager, she had her cruel father who was more than just annoyed by her childish schemes and antics. There was no clueless, pampered resident to provide comic relief, and she most definitely did not have a crush on any of the workers, especially not Montparnasse. Of course, she couldn't say the same about her desperate little sister, Azelma. 

They drove past Marius's lavish town house that had lost most of its value due to the eye-sore Motel across the street. He was outside with some cute Italian boy on their patio furniture. The Italian boy was laughing and snapping pictures with hs iPhone while Marius just blushed and tried to adjust to having such an eccentric friend. 

"There he is!" Montparnasse purred, gazing at the awkwardly attractive boy. "And he's got an even cuter friend." 

"Stop being such a perv, 'Parnasse." As soon as he pulled into his usual parking space, Eponine hopped out of the car with her book bag hanging on her shoulders. Although she wanted to saunter over to Marius with a smirk plastered on her face, Eponine decided to try to sneak into her room without being seen by her parents. 

Avoiding her parents was no new thing; ever since she could scale the stairs, she's been slinking in and out of the house at all hours, unseen by her pesky parents. She had memorized the floor's creaky boards as if they were a minefield. By age eight, she could easily leap to the door without making a sound. The stairs were a bit trickier, but eventually she wised up and mastered the art of sliding down the railing on her way out. She had a method for every obstacle, including the door. 

That day, Eponine slowly pushed the squeaky screen door open, keeping the creaking to a minimum with practiced ease. Then she skipped over every board that moaned when stepped on. Somehow she managed to climb up the stairs without being detected. 

Her bedroom (which was just one of the Motel rooms that they never booked) was in sight; just a few steps and she would be alone with her thoughts. Hurriedly, Eponine latched onto the door knob and twisted it. 

Finally! She was alone! 

Never mind.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" Eponine narrowed her eyes at her younger sister, Azelma, who was painting her toe nails on Eponine's dingy, motel style bed. 

"Oh! Hi, 'Ponine." She waved. Azelma was a twiggier version of Eponine with auburn hair and a permanently vacant expression that only made her huge hazel eyes even less attractive. Besides her facial features, Azelma was very different from her older sister. She wasn't independent like Eponine, or as sassy, or even as interesting. She was just a little brat trying to imitate her older sister. 

"Are you painting your nails on my bed?" Eponine gasped. "I swear to God, Azelma, if you get nail polish on my bed-" 

"Chill out! I just didn't want to stain my bed before my big night." Azelma cut her off as she finished up her painting. 

"Oh! So, it's okay to stain my bed, but- wait. Big night? Azelma, you're not- are you?" Eponine was genuinely concerned about what her little Freshman sister meant by 'her big night'. 

Azelma smirked at her. "Montparnasse and I-" 

"No, you're not. Montparnasse is bad news, besides your (bad news - besides, you're) way too young to have a 'big night'!" 

"Am not!" Azelma squealed. "I mean, who old were you when you lost your V-card? Like 12?" 

"That was different-" 

"Oh yeah! So different! God, just get off my back! All the kids at school already call me a slut because of the lovely reputation you have. I'm never more than Eponine's little twat of a sister!" Azelma unleashed all her pent up angst on Eponine, leaving her speechless. She wanted to say something that would inspire Azelma, but she had nothing. There was a knock at the door. 

"Azelma?" Montparnasse called. 

"That's for me." Azelma pushed past Eponine to the door. She paused at the door and looked back at Eponine, pleadingly, as if she wanted Eponine to make her stay. "Bye," she whispered. 

There was nothing Eponine could do, so she laid down on her bed to think. She wanted to dissect her brain and find out why she still loved Eugene - Cosette. And why was she so mean to Cosette in Drama club? Why did she take her lingering feelings and turn them into hate? 

The answer? She was afraid. She was afraid of her feelings now that Cosette was a girl. She didn't want to feel this way anymore. Even though she'd sworn she always would. 

Back in her last summer with Cosette, when the hot sun was high in the clear sky, they had been standing in a wheat field all alone. The light yellow wheat was nearly as tall as the chubby little kids poking out of the field. 

Eponine had smiled at Cosette and said, "With this ring, I thee wed." Eponine slipped a twist tie ring over Cosette's finger. "Now, you say it." 

"With this ring, I thee wed," she had repeated, giving Eponine a matching ring. Eponine fluttered her eyelashes at Cosette.

"You may now kiss the bride," she had hummed. When nothing had happened, Eponine told Cosette again. "Aren't you going to kiss me?" 

"No." She didn't say it rudely, more like she was confused. 

"Why not?" Eponine pouted. 

"I'm the bride." Eponine stumbled backwards in shock. 

"No, I am! You're a boy." 

"Am not!" 

"Are too!" Eponine shoved Cosette to the ground. "Stay away from me, stupid-head!" 

Looking back, Eponine realised that that was when her hatred was born, spawned by her first rejection. When she'd seen Cosette in her correct body, the heartbreak returned. She wasn't a boy; she never had been; and still, Eponine loved her.


	5. Chapter 5

Cosette wasn't sure how Math could be anyone's favorite subject when all the teacher did was scribble on the board and drone on about numerical things no teenager could genuinely care about. Of course, all the teacher had done so far had been to unenthusiastically take role. Every word he said sounded like the famous monotone line: "Bueller..... Bueller......Bueller." 

Given that he'd called her name already, Cosette slipped into her thoughts. Lately, she was quite conflicted over her feelings for Marius. Seeing him again had brought all the feelings she once had rushing back. Then again, she couldn't put either of them through the potential trauma of a relationship. Not only would seeing Marius so often would remind her of how awful her childhood had been with the constant abuse and her dysphoria, but Marius would not be fully satisfied with her. She was trans; he would surely be repulsed if he ever found out. But Marius was such a nice boy, he would probably date her anyway, making him the target of bullying that she would never wish upon anyone. How could she do that to someone she cared for? It would just be better if they never saw each other again. 

Suddenly, Cosette was rattled out of her day-dreaming by an inconsistency in her teacher's steady pace. He had called some no-show's name and was now scanning the room for an empty desk. 

"Grantaire? Does anyone know where Grantaire is? Last call for Grantaire." Just as the teacher looked back down at the roll to mark the absence, the door was wrenched open.

"Here!" A sketchy looking boy panted. He kept his eyes on his feet, his paint-stained hands clutching the straps of his unintentionally fashionable backpack, and his maroon beanie tucked over an unruly cloud of dark curls. 

Cosette recognized him right away. He was part of Enjolras's circle of friends and had been to her house a few times. She remembered him being quippy, a bit cynical, purposely contrary, but generally a good guy. 

"Grantaire, glad you decided to show up. It's lucky that you took this class with me last year; that way you can be as late as you want without missing anything you shouldn't already know," the teacher mocked as he checked off Grantaire's name. 

"Oh, that's all you have, Mr. G? I expect better from you, after all I taught you in our time together," Grantaire quipped back, earning a few laughs. 

"Funny , that's the same thing I said to you when you failed last year." The class gave a decent response to that one. 

"See? If you apply yourself, great things will happen for you!" Grantaire patted the teacher's back, reassuringly. 

"Oh, now you're just setting yourself up! Go take a seat." The teacher shooed Grantaire away and jumped right into his lesson. 

As Cosette's attention slunk in and out of reality, she heard Grantaire drop his books on the desk behind her. The smack brought her back into focus, a state she was determined to stay in. 

"Hey," Grantaire whispered. Cosette did not reply; she'needed to pay attention in order to learn, and wasn't that what school was all about? Not engaging in conversations with cynical artists. 

"Hey." This time he prodded her in the back. It seemed a little rude to ignore him when he was putting forth such an effort.

"Yes?" She quickly peeked over her shoulder. 

"Do you got a pencil I can borrow?" Without looking back, Cosette gave him a little nod and began to rummage through her pencil pouch. She reached back, eyes still on the board, and gave him the pencil. 

"Here," she murmured. 

"Wait." Grantaire hesitated to accept her offer. "Turn around, pretty lady." Cosette remembered that Grantaire always tried to be a charmer, but his attempts tended to come out a bit goofy. 

Knowing that Grantaire was actually a gentleman under that hard exterior, Cosette turned to him. "Whoa!" Grantaire's chapped lips fell open at the sight of Cosette. "I mean-aren't you Enjolras' sister?" She blushed, batting her eyelashes in embarrassment. 

"No, Enjolras is my brother." Grantaire chuckled at her. 

"You look just like him." Grantaire checked out her beautiful blonde hair and delicate shape. He would know, with all the time he spent ogling Enjolras with'those piercing, pale blue eyes overflowing with unadultured admiration. 

"We're adopted," Cosette corrected. Grantaire wasn't the first and he wouldn't be the last to mistake them for biological siblings based on their aesthetic similarities. Neither of them cared much; in fact, the two thought it more like a compliment to be told that they looked alike. But it seemed odd that Enjolras had never told Grantaire this; they were friends, weren't they? 

"Oh, sorry. You guys are just both very- not ugly." He shrugged, put up his hood, snagged her pencil, and began doodling into a sketch pad. Her eyes lingered on him; she didn't like that he shut the whole world out with his headphones. 

For the remainder of class, she only half-listened to the lesson, thinking about the mystery that was Grantaire. 

 

\---

 

He wasn't even looking at the clock- how did Grantaire know before the bell rang when class was over? Cosette watched him head to the door just before the rattling buzz of the bell dismissed the class. 

"Where are you going?" Mr. Giovanna asked suspiciously. Grantaire rolled his eyes and, right on the cue of the bell, he pointed to the clock. As he sulked out, the teacher called, "Hey! The bell doesn't dismiss you, I-augh, I give up. Get outta here!" He waved the students away. 

Cosette scooped up her books and hurried out, slinging her bag over her shoulder. 

"Grantaire! Hi." She caught up with Grantaire in the bustling hall. 

"Y'know, you don't have to talk to me." He stopped at his locker to toss his already battered Trig book. 

"Yes, but I want to." Cosette smiled at him, wondering why he didn't believe she wanted to talk to him. It wasn't like she was some gorgeous, popular Senior. 

"You're just like Enjolras." He smirked with a little half-hearted laugh. "Charming. Trust me, that won't last long, sweetheart. Give it time; you won't be able to stand me soon enough." Cosette wondered how much truth was behind that. She could picture Enjolras trying to recruit him to fight for his causes, reeking of eloquent charm. By the way Enjolras complains about Grantaire now, it must be true. Grantaire must've worn out Enjolras' welcome. 

"I'm not like Enjolras, really," Cosette insisted. "He's got an unfortunately ill temper. I got the patience." 

"I thought you two were adopted," Grantaire joked as he slammed his locker shut and started down the hall. Determined, Cosette trailed behind him. 

"Look, I just believe there's a lot more to you than what you reveal." Grantaire froze in the hall without warning. 

"He said that too." Grantaire's fists clenched quickly and released. "I'd say I proved him wrong. Or he just gave up like everyone else." Cosette was speechless; so many questions clouded her mind, but only one seemed to matter: how could she help?

"Hey." She broke the silence. Cautiously, she walked over to his side and took his hand. "I'll tell you what, you don't give up on me, and I won't give up on you." Slowly, like a flower blooming, a smile crept onto his face. 

"You're alright, Cosette." Cosette admired Grantaire for a moment; if the boy took a little better care of himself, gained a few pounds and showed off that beautiful smile more often, he would have it going on. 

"Sit by me at lunch?" she asked, matching his grin.

"Sure, why not."

 

\---

 

Grantaire led Cosette to a crowded rectangular table on the side of the cafeteria that Juniors and Seniors claimed. Enjolras was ranting in the center, in between Feuilly and Combeferre. He looked radiant as always; Cosette even noticed Grantaire staring. 

Feuilly lobbed a paper airplane at Grantaire playfully. "Hey, 'Taire, I got a job at that really cool craft store downtown." 

"Sweet! Maybe you can buy some artistic talent with your discount." Grantaire winked at him, unfolding the airplane. It wasn't made out of lined paper; it was a colored, glossy sheet. "Dude, are these coupons?" 

"Yep. I thought you might like some." Feuilly did a self-satisfied, little shrug and went on eating his dry Ramen noodles. 

"Bad news, Grantaire, they don't sell booze. Guess that'll go to waste," Bahorel teased Grantaire, good-naturedly as always. Chuckling, Grantaire took a seat across from Enjolras, who was doing his best to avoid him. 

"Hey, french-vanilla, look who I brought over! You never told me you were adopted!" Enjolras tensed up, as if he were already annoyed with him. 

"Given that my father is old enough to be my grandfather, I thought it was quite clear." Before anything could escalate between the two of them, Courfeyrac swaggered over to the table whilst strumming his ukulele. 

"Hey guys, I found a sweater vest with a Marius inside!" 

Oh no. 

Cosette watched a very jittery Marius ignore her. He looked very uncomfortable with this whole situation, especially with Cosette there. She felt bad for the poor kid. It must be horrible to be so timid that you literally sweat when you meet new people. Of course, she could relate; she'd cried before the first day of school, she'd been so nervous!

"Welcome, Marius." Enjolras extended his hand for a handshake, an inviting smile urging Marius to take his hand. After Courfeyrac gave him a nudge, Marius nervously shook Enjolras' hand. 

"I'm Enjolras, we're a social justice group here at- Grantaire, are you mouthing what I say?" 

"...maybe.." Enjolras sat down again, resigned. "Well, go on!" he grumbled. "Introduce yourselves." 

"I'm Feuilly. I just snagged my third job, well, fourth if you include all the time I spend making stuff for that damn Etsy," Feuilly chuckled. Cosette remembered Enjolras mentioning how amazing Feuilly's Etsy was last year. Whether that was true or not wasn't clear, since Enjolras talked about Feuilly like he hung the moon. 

"Seriously though, the man can knit! But he's broke, so it's just bad manners to ask for any of his services for free," Courferyac explained to Marius, whose gaze was beginning to cave into the temptation of stealing glances at Cosette.

"He's right." Bahorel gestured to the curly haired Italian with his Monster Energy drink. "Last year, Feuilly made me this sick beanie for my birthday. I paid him back." Even though everyone knew the story was more factual than not, they laughed as if it were some joke Bahorel had made up. "I'm Bahorel, by the way; if you ever get in a fight, you're gonna want me on your side, you hear?" Bahorel cracked his knuckles. 

"Um, alright." Marius' eyes flickered to Cosette. She was beginning to wish more than ever that there was a way they could be together.

"You already met me, I'm Jehan." A fragile hand extended, it's long, delicate fingers bent down. It didn't look like he was looking for a handshake, but Marius put an effort forth to do just that. "No, silly. You're supposed to kiss my hand." Jehan may have gone a little pink, but his blush was nothing in comparison to the red that spread up to Marius's ears. Awkwardly, he leaned over, took Jehan's bony fingers and pressed his lips gently against his knuckles 

"Ow-ow-ow!" Someone hooted. 

"Marius, this might not be the best time, but do you happen to know how you're going to die?" The thing that made that statement even creepier was the calm smile Jehan had firmly in place as he held onto Marius' hands, and examined his palms with a ravenous curiosity. 

"No, actually, and I'd like to keep it that way." Marius pulled his hands away. 

"Suit yourself." Jehan shrugged, earning an airy giggle from Cosette beside him. 

"I'm Joly," a smallish Asian sophmore chirped from the far end of the table. He had a bottle of hand sanitizer and a tin Dr. Who lunch box open in front of him, stocked with a thermos of chicken noodle soup, some Flintstones vitamins and a box of toddler's apple juice. "I would shake your hand, but I'm afraid I've got a cold." 

"You never seem to stop me when you're sick." A pasty boy with a tacky fedora set his tray down and gave Joly's hand a quick squeeze. 

"That's because I'm always sick, and you're my very best friend," Joly explained brightly. 

"Where were you, anyways?" Grantaire asked, chewing some papery salad from the cafeteria in the side of his mouth. "No, let me guess." He pointed at him with his plastic spork and swallowed. "Locker jam?" 

"You got it. Are we introducing ourselves or something?" 

"Courfeyrac brought over his little boyfriend he ate lunch with yesterday," Bahorel teased. 

"He's not my boyfriend!" Courfeyrac's happy, ukulele mood music stopped abruptly at the sudden defensive tone he took. Cosette knew Courfeyrac; she loved that kid. He was not one to get defensive, unless he was hiding something, and Cosette was sure Marius wasn't interested in exploring that option. Cosette was sensing a little crush! 

"Touchy!" Grantaire smirked. "I'm Grantaire, don't worry Marius, even if you can't get into Courfeyrac's pants, a slice like you will be snatched up by some slutty cheerleader in no time!" 

"Grantaire," Enjolras growled. "Slut-shaming is in no way productive, and telling girls what is and is not acceptable to wear, takes away their control over their body, which promotes rape culture." Cosette admired Enjolras' concern for the negative effects of slut-shaming, but the way Grantaire rolled his eyes made her stifle laughter. 

"Tell me all about it, Mr. Privilege." Grantaire tipped back an unlabeled water bottle that wasn't fooling anyone, except maybe the teachers. 

"I would, but I'm afraid you're already too drunk to hold a proper conversation." 

Enjolras glowered at the the scruffy boy as he stabbed his salad resolutely. Grantaire smacked his hands on the table, ready for the fight, but Combeferre cut in quickly. 

"And I'm Combeferre! Nice to meet you, Marius; I like your sweater vest." Cosette noted that Combeferre remained calm so as to not contribute to the tension. It was also cute that Combeferre and Marius could bond over their affinity for sweater vests. 

"Well, that's the gang, Marius!" Courfeyrac clasped his hands together, not bothering to have Cosette introduce herself. That would just make things even more uncomfortable. Needless to say, Cosette was thankful for Courfeyrac's good judgement in social situations. "We just thought we'd stop by and get introductions out of the way before my party Friday. Is everyone still up for it?" 

"You know it!" Bahorel hollered, truly characterizing the frat boy Cosette saw him becoming in college. 

"I'll be a little late, I've got work." Feuilly offered a sad smile. 

"I'll bring the booze!" Grantaire said, oozing self-satisfaction. 

"It's not like you're good for anything else," Enjolras mumbled. 

"Oh! And what are you good for?" Grantaire was fuming. "Stomping around with a stick up your self-righteous ass and putting on your pretty smile so you can get more groupies to brainwash into believing all the pretentious bullshit you say!" 

"Courfeyrac!" Joly frantically interjected. They had to stop scaring off people with all of Enjolras and Grantaire's bickering. "Do you mind if Musichetta comes? She finally agreed to go out with me, so I sort of invited her to this." Joly asked. 

"Sure, that's fine, Joly." Courfeyrac started playing some sappy love song on his ukulele and theatrically humming along. Marius was looking at Cosette again. 

"Are you sure you want to bring Musichetta to some lame basement party for your first date, Jol?" Bossuet cautioned him. 

"Hey!" Courfeyrac said in protest to Bossuet's slightly rude comment. Bahorel seemed to take personal offense; no one calls basement parties lame and gets away with it! 

"Sorry, Courf. It's just Joly's been trying to get Musichetta to go out with him since he was a freshman. Shouldn't he take her on a proper first date?" Bossuet was right, in Cosette's opinion. Courfeyrac's basement with tacky Christmas lights strung from the ceiling and some Godawful mix tapes playing on loop wasn't Cosette's idea of romance either. 

"True. It's up to you, Joly. It's no big deal if you want to take her on one of those cookie-cutter first dates, but I can guarantee they won't have Just Dance at Olive Garden." 

Oh, Just Dance, someone call Nicholas Sparks! He'll want to write about this one! 

"I'll think it over," Joly giggled. 

"Alrighty, bitches, Marius and I have a library to eat in. See ya!" Courfeyrac waved good-bye, dragging Marius behind him. Cosette audibly sighed in relief. She was so thankful that he was gone; one more second of those gorgeous eyes on her and she would have melted. 

 

\---

 

Enjolras had had a long day at school; not only were his classes demanding, but Grantaire's constant need to push his buttons was exhausting. Luckily school was over and Cosette was hitching a ride with someone after drama club so he could just go home with Combeferre and do homework together. 

On their way up to Enjolras' room, Valjean stopped them. "Not so fast, boys," Valjean called from behind his newspaper. He had a habit of waiting until late afternoon to read the newspaper because he spent the first part if the day helping at shelters and such. "How was day two?" He folded up his newspaper to better engage in the conversation. 

"Let's just say, you won't see Grantaire and Enjolras frolicking through daisies anytime soon," Combeferre stated plainly. It was well worth the wimpy whack Enjolras gave him in protest. His father pursed his lips; he didn't like that his son didn't get along well with everyone. He especially did not like that it appeared that he was no longer making an effort to. 

"Well, that's just- really too bad," he concluded with his best disappointed-father voice. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Now, where is your sister? Aren't you supposed to pick her up after Drama Club?" 

"She's riding back with one of her new friends," Enjolras replied. Valjean's face lit up at that and Enjolras seemed relieved that he didn't have to look at his disappointed face anymore. 

"She made friends? Enjolras! That's great!" 

"Yeah, she'll be home at 5. We'd like to stay and chat, but we've got homework to do, so..." 

"Fine!" Valjean waved them off. "In my day, no one actually wanted to homework. You two go be nerds!" Secretly, Valjean was glad that Enjolras still did his homework. When Valjean first noticed Enjolras's audacious behavior, he was worried that Enjolras' rebellion would affect his classwork. Thankfully, Enjolras had not been pushed to boycott any assignments so far. 

The two boys hurried up the stairs and settled into their usual studying positions: Enjolras and Combeferre sitting back-to-back in front of his bed. If Courfeyrac was there like usual, he would be bouncing between sitting on the desk, bed, and the plush red bean bag in the corner. But the comic relief of their study sessions was hanging out with new kid Marius. Courfeyrac was their best friend; now Combeferre and Enjolras sort of felt like they were losing him. 

"Hey, what d'you get for number 33?" Combeferre broke the silence. (Well, almost silence; Enjolras had a habit of tapping his pencil against his book when he was thinking) "Enjolras?" He repeated when Enjolras didn't reply. 

"Huh? What? Sorry." Enjolras snapped out of his thoughts.

"What d'you get for 33?" 

"I haven't done it yet," he answered. 

"What are you on?" Combeferre peeked over his shoulder to try to steal a glance at Enjolras. "Four?!" Combeferre exclaimed, baffled. He shifted onto his knees and crawled next to Enjolras to get a better look. He even took off his glasses to confirm. "How are you still on four?!

Offended, Enjolras held his work against his chestso Combeferre couldn't stare at it with wide eyes and judge. "I'm just distracted, that's all." 

"Alright." Combeferre sighed and got comfortable; this could be a long one. "Unload on me, Enjolras." Having Combeferre as his best friend had its perks. Not only did Combeferre have a rare ability to keep a passionate idealist grounded with love and care; he was always there with a text reminding Enjolras to eat or sleep, and in situations like this, Combeferre was the perfect mix of a cuddle buddy and listener. He was basically a professional pillow with his cushiony build and the fact that he was about a foot taller than than Enjolras. 

"I just can see Courfeyrac's friend breaking the three of us up," Enjolras admitted. "I mean, y'know him, he gets distracted by pretty boys." 

"Distracted." Combeferre rubbed Enjolras's arm lovingly. "Not torn away by them. So Marius has pretty eyes and that whole shy, lost-puppy thing going on that Courfeyrac can't resist, but he's not going to forget about us! I mean, seriously, who could forget you and your crazy antics?" Enjolras gave a breathy laugh from his nose. 

"And what about you?" He smiled at Combeferre. "How could Courfeyrac forget the philosophical kid who helped him bathe in coffee for his science project?" Enjolras gave Combeferre a playful whack to emphasis his point. 

For a long, tranquil moment in each others arms, they soaked in the intimacy of the moment. Enjolras took a moment to really appreciate the fact that a friend like Combeferre doesn't come around to everyone, and he'd chosen Enjolras. That should not be taken for granted. He looked up at Combeferre for a long moment before he decided to take advantage of that cozy little moment they were sharing and finally be completely honest with him. 

"Combeferre, you're my best friend, and I think there's something I should tell you," Enjolras whispered. But before Combeferre could prod him to open up, the front door swung open. 

"Papa! I'm home! I hope you don't mind, but I brought a friend over." Cosette's precious twittering filled the house. "Where's Enjolras?" If Enjolras didn't go hug his little sister and let her wonder why he was hiding in his room, he would feel like a jerk, so he let out a sigh. 

"We should probably go downstairs and meet her friend. It's just being a good host." 

Although Combeferre wanted to know Enjolras's secret, he agreed to go greet Cosette and her friend. This was major progress for Cosette; it was the second day of school and she was already bringing friends over. 

Enjolras hustled down the steps to the foyer and there he was. Raven spirals of hair seeping out of his beanie and paint caking his calloused hands. Ripped skinny jeans hugging his skeletal legs and his boxers peeking out of the dark denim. There was no way his Dad was going to let Cosette hang out with Grantaire! He had piercings! 

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Enjolras sounded stunned. 

"Enjolras!" Combeferre, Valjean, and Cosette all scolded in unison. 

"That is no way to talk to a guest, young man," Valjean said sternly. Enjolras looked to Enjolras looked to Combeferre to defend him, but his arms were folded over his chest and a disciplinary look was on his face. 

"Papa, this is Grantaire. He's in Drama Club and my math class. You've met him, haven't you?" Cosette introduced Grantaire who was doing his best not to reveal his true, corrupt self. 

"Oh! Of course! You came here for one of Enjolras's meetings. It's a pleasure to have you back." Valjean reached out and gave him a firm handshake.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Enjolras repeated, dumbstruck. Valjean shot him a menacing glare. 

"You kids run along, and Cosette, honey, you know the rules." Cosette rolled her eyes in a jesting manner. 

"Of course. No boys in my room with the door shut!" Enjolras kept a steady, appalled glare fixed on that all too pompous Grantaire. 

"And you can thank Courfeyrac for that rule!" Valjean joked as he shuffled back to his nearly finished news paper. As soon as his father was out of earshot, Enjolras narrowed his eyes at Grantaire. 

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Cosette stepped in front of Grantaire, defensively. 

"Enjolras, please." 

"No, Cosette it's fine. I can handle him, he's not very good at intimidation, he's said the same non-threatening thing three times." Grantaire stepped forward, closing in on Enjolras. 

"Oh, Enjobubbles-" 

"Did you just call me Enjobubbles?" He furrowed his brow. "If I knew you were going to be this excited to see me-" 

"Not excited. Not excited at all." Grantaire got right up in his face. 

"I would have given you my autograph or something!" Grantaire smirked smugly at Enjolras who was all kinds of flustered. "See you at school." He blew him a kiss and smacked Enjolras's butt lightly before Cosette led him up the stairs. 

"This will not stand!" Enjolras marched to the kitchen, index finger stiff and authoritative. "Dad!" Combeferre raced behind him, in efforts to stop him from ruffling any feathers. 

"Enjolras, c'mon! Let's just go do our homework!" Combeferre pleaded. "Dad, I forbid you to let Cosette be friends with Grantaire!" 

Valjean sighed and folded up his newspaper, Enjolras doesn't surrender after picking a fight. Patience was key for dealing with his temper. "Well, that's not very fair, Enjolras. I let you be friends with Grantaire." 

"Uh!" He scoffed. "Grantaire and I are not friends!" 

"Now Enjolras," Combeferre began. 

"Don't 'Now Enjolras' me!" he snapped at Combeferre. "I don't want him in my house! He's bad news!" he tried to explain to his father, but Valjean had his mind made up. 

"I trust Cosette's judgement," Valjean rebutted. 

"So you don't trust mine?" 

"No, I never said that. I just think you're jumping to conclusions about Grantaire." 

"Dad, I know Grantaire, I know what he does-" "Enjolras, I'm very disappointed in you. I thought I taught you to see the good in others-" 

"I've tried!" Enjolras cried. "I thought there was good in him, but he won't let me find it!" 

"And even then, keep searching. There is good in everyone." Enjolras tried to fight back, but no words came out of his mouth. Still boiling with rage, Enjolras stormed upstairs. 

"Sorry about him," Combeferre apologised, frantically, and chased him to his room. 

This was not over.


	6. Chapter 6

Parties. No matter how nerve-wracking, they were a part of the high school experience, and Marius craved the high school experience, even if it was going to make him vomit. The idea of being in a room full of near-strangers terrified Marius to no end. He could just picture himself sitting alone with an untouched red solo cup Grantaire had filled for him on the end table, watching everyone else have a good time and ignore him. That's why being alone was better; when no one was there, nobody could ignore him.

Courfeyrac had promised it was going to just be a small, intimate get together with the guys Marius had met yesterday, Cosette, and Joly's girlfriend. The grown-ups that were there for the main event, Courfeyrac's mom's anniversary party, would give them their privacy, but would still be there in case trouble arose. That sort of comforted him.

Marius admired his choice of a sweater vest for that night in the mirror. Usually, he would be satisfied with an outfit of that caliber, but it didn't scream "Party!" It kind of just used its inside voice to say, "Geek alert." So it was back to the drawing board.  
He slipped the patel sweater vest off on his way to his closet. His closet was stocked with variations of the same, essential button-downs and sweater vests with a few stray cardigans and preppy crew-neck sweaters that were better suited for Courfeyrac.

Ping!

For some reason, Marius was glad Eponine was here; maybe she would get them arrested so he wouldn't have to go.

"Hey there, Pontmercy." Eponine nudged the unlocked window open, rested her forearms on the sill and set her chin on top of her hands. "Wowza, kid! Did you lose your shirt?" she jested with a familiar, oddly comforting smirk.

"No, I'm just- Courfeyrac- fashion is- You see-" Marius rambled, digging through his closet frantically.

"Deep breaths, kiddo," Eponine advised.

"I have too many sweater vests." He pouted, clutching two especially dorky garments in his hands.

"You're just realizing that now?" Eponine climbed through the window with a snicker. She wasted no time rummaging through Marius's impressive collection of high quality, dry-clean-only threads. With which each passing hanger, Eponine's simper lost animation, revealing her disappointment.

"See?" Marius whined. "I'm hopeless!" He plopped down onto his bed and folded his arms. Marius could tell he looked like a child by the way Eponine tried to look sympathetic while supressing chuckles.

"You're not hopeless!" Eponine joined him on his bed and gently rubbed his back to soothe him. Though Marius was unsure how much truth her words held, they were consoling nonetheless. "Just your wardrobe!"

Nevermind.

Her hand patted his thigh twice before she rose to her feet. "C'mon, I have an idea." She reached out to take his hand. Marius hesitated; if he took Eponine's hand, she would yank him around and they'd end up in some kind of quandary. On the bright side, said quandary could be his ticket out of Courfeyrac's party. He'd rather be chased down by cops than be stuck in a basement on the outskirts of a tight-knit group.

"We're not going to hold up a Sears, are we?" Marius said, resigned, and or Marius gave up and took her hand. Instead of giving him a conclusive answer, like a normal person, she just winked at him.

"Course not. No one shops at Sears!"

"Eponine!" He demanded in a pinchy voice as Eponine tugged him off his bed.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist!" Teasing him mercilessly, she hopped out the window. Marius wasn't nearly as swift as Eponine, so he slowly eased out of the window, even prodding at the mushy, fall ground with the tip of his shoe to insure its stability. Eponine entertained his safety precaution because Marius was just so darn cute, but as soon as both of his feet were firmly planted on the mud, Eponine was off.

"Eponine, where are we going?" Marius whined.

Skidding across the road in front of cars was one of Eponine's many talents. Apparently her mother never taught her the importance of looking both ways before crossing the street. More often than not, Eponine would pull Marius across the street and trigger the blaring honk of horns. But never once had she been hit - not even a nick. It seemed to Marius that Eponine actually waited for the cars to get near to cross, like it was some sort of wild game. Or a death wish.

"You'll see!"

It was just what Marius was dreading: The Splinter Motel. He didn't mind hanging around Eponine usually, but he was adamant about not going to her place. Her father and his greasy friends always poked fun at Marius or groped him on the rare occasion he did come over. Mrs. Thenardier was no better; she was always making innuendos and trying to seduce him. She would make excuses to be around him if he was over, like bringing them unnecessary snacks or coming for laundry twice in the same day. Like mother like daughter, Azelma was very flirtatious with him. Once, Azelma even staged a nip-slip.

Eponine led him inside and up the stairs to the hall where permanent residents lived. Marius' first inclination was that Eponine was taking him to her room, but she whizzed right by hers and Azelma's room to the third door. Suddenly, she stopped and whirled around, her wide eyes inches away from Marius'.

"I hear 'Parnasse in the shower. We don't have much time-"

"Much time for what?" Marius interjected a little too loudly.

"Shhh!" She pressed her finger to his lips. "To get you something to wear to your little party!"

"Eponine, you can't be serious," he whispered. "If we get caught,-"

"We won't! Just stay quiet, alright?" Eponine warned. Marius wasn't too keen on this idea, but he'd never had his throat slit because of one of her crazy ideas before. Then again, there was a first time for everything.

With meticulous care, Eponine inched the door open just wide enough for her to slip through. "C'mon!" she rasped, jerking Marius inside.

The room was unfavorably dark and drab, only one dim lamp with a crooked shade shedding light on the dingy walls and floors that made up the grungy room. The comforter and the sheets were all in a bunch at the foot of the bed, the pillows were tattered and the mattress was stained. Clothes were scattered across the floor, all of which were inside out, but designer nonetheless.

Montparnasse worked at the motel and stayed there frequently, but it wasn't what he considered his home, so he only brought a portion of his closet with him, and hardly kept up with the cleaning, hence the paper plates slathered with the remains of Hot Pockets. Still, he had more clothes than Marius could ever dream of.

Eponine ignored all the possible outfits strewn about the floor; Montparnasse would notice if someone tidied up for him. There were plenty of worthy contenders hanging in the closet. Not wasting any time, she picked through the clothes until she reached a section of more casual attire.

"This?" Eponine pulled out a pair of purple skinny jeans and a thin white V-neck. Marius crinkled his nose. "What? Colored jeans are in!"

"Fine!" He grumbled, swiping them from her hands. "Turn around."

"What're you doing?" Eponine whispered, obeying his wishes.

"Shouldn't I at least try them on?" Marius fumbled with his belt and his pants dropped to his ankles.

Before he could wiggle his way into Montparnasse's flamboyant pants, the water stopped. Montparnasse was done with his shower.nMarius and Eponine both froze. 

"Eponine!" Marius whimpered.

The door opened, steam pooled into the room, and Montparnasse emerged with a towel tied around his waist and another wrapped around his hair. For a moment, Montparnasse just hummed some top 40 hit to himself. Then he saw them.

"What the f-"

"Scram!" Eponine clawed at Marius' arm and pulled him along. With his pants around his ankles, the escape couldn't last long. Marius fell flat on his face in the hallway. "Marius!" Eponine squeaked. "Marius, get off your ass if you don't want it kicked!"

He scrambled to his feet, abandoning his own trousers, but clutching Montparnasse's. They went through all that trouble- he wasn't going to show up in a sweater vest after that.

Eponine guided him down the stairs without using her usual tactics for sneaking around the house. "Marius, hurry it up! 'Parnasse is insane!"

"Hell yes, I am!" Montparnasse screamed from behind them.

The door was in sight; Marius prayed they would make it.

" You're mine, skank!" Montparnasse shouted.

One more step!

"Not your skank, byotch!" Eponine gave one final battle cry as she slammed the door on his face and threw the lock across. 

They were safe! Marius couldn't believe Eponine had gotten them out in one piece. Both of them laughing and rejoicing, they ran across the street, hand-in-hand. "I can't believe we're still alive!" Marius stopped in the middle of the road and, on pure adrenaline; scooped Eponine up by her hips and twirled her around. "All hail Queen 'Ponine!"

Eponine looked pretty satisfied with herself; she even gave that trademark Usain Bolt pose. "Preach it, babe!" Eponine giggled.

A car horn zapped them back to reality. "Get a room!" The driver shouted.

Marius awkwardly set her down, but she didn't seem to want to let go. Her eyes gazed longingly at him with a glisten that almost made them pretty; all Marius could do was go red and clear his throat. 

"We should probably go."

"Right."

"So I can- y'know, put some pants on."

"Right again."

The two hurried back into Marius' room so Marius could get ready to go. The closer it got to the party, the more nervous he became. He'd much rather stay at home and watch romcoms on the couch with Eponine, surrounded by piles of junk food, and go to bed at a decent hour. He did have homework over the weekend. 

"Hey, Eponine?"

"Hmm?" she said, her tongue poking out of her mouth in concentration as she fixed his hair.

"Did you maybe want to come with me? Just in case everyone ignores me?" he asked meekly.

A geniune smile, nothing like her smirk, crept slowly onto her face. "I'd love to, Pontmercy. Come get me when you leave." She left him with a seductive little wave and the image of her narrow hips swaying.

Marius watched her walk home for a little longer, then went back to admiring himself in the mirror. Eponine was right about the colored jeans; Marius really liked how he looked in them. As he spun around to check out his ass yet again, his grandfather came down the hall and looked on from the open door.

"Going somewhere?" The old man quirked a bushy grey eyebrow. The sudden noise startled Marius more than usual; he was a bit embarrassed that he was checking out his ass. Plus, he sort of felt like a dunce for not telling his grandfather about Courfeyrac's little party earlier.

"It's my friend's moms' anniversary-"

"Her anniversary of what?" He interrupted.

"No, my friend has two moms. It's their wedding anniversary." Marius saw his grandfather's face fall as he explained the situation, which was not a good sign.

"You expect me to let you go to a party that celebrates sin?" his grandfather demanded clarification, trying his best to remain calm.

"Sin? Grandfather, it's not sin, it's love!" Marius gasped.

"If a man also lie with mankind, as he lie with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them. You hear me, young man?" His Grandfather was no longer calm, he was raging. He stomped over to Marius and shoved him to the ground. Marius could feel his insides rattle as he hit the floor; that and his Grandfather's bigotry made Marius nauseous. "I said, 'Do you hear me young man?'!" he screamed, his face red.

"Please, they're people. God loves them just as much as us!" Marius tried to be defiant, but he was so afraid of his Grandfather.

"People!" he spat. "They are an abomination!"

"Do you hear yourself?" Marius crawled to his feet as his courage gathered. "Aren't you supposed to use God's word to bring people together? To accept and to love? I think you've missed God's point."

"I've missed it!" In a fit of rage, Gillenormand's fist smashed against Marius's mirror, and when it didn't shatter he picked it up and bashed it against Marius' head. Glass flurried around him in its lethally beautiful journey to the ground. "They've brainwashed you, you're going to hell with them! I knew the homosexuals would find you at that damn school!" Marius wanted to fight back, but his head was throbbing; he couldn't even string together an articulate sentence. He was in no state to defend homosexuality. Everything was blurry, his hands were covered in his own blood, and all he could see was the glistening of shattered glass on the unsteady floor.

"You're not going to that party!" His Grandfather slammed the door on his way out, leaving Marius alone.

His blood was boiling. No one should be allowed to talk about people they don't even know like that. You can't just damn an entire league of people and expect to have God go along with it. He wouldn't want anyone justifying their hatred with His teachings, with His name. A shard of glass stabbing into his clenching fist, Marius stood up determinedly, (okay slowly and it took a few wobbly tries.) He was going to that party if it killed him.

 

\---

 

The gang was heading downstairs to get the real party started when Courfeyrac spotted Marius at the door with that grungy girl who owned that motel serving as his shadow. He was absolutely stunning! The vibrant purple pants and see-through V-neck combo was an excellent change in pace from his usual sweater vests. And Courfeyrac adored those sweater vests; or rather, he adored Marius.

"Marius!" Courfeyrac beamed at his attractive little friend. 

Marius gave him a hesitant wave. 

Wait. 

Courfeyrac grabbed his wrist, and Marius winced. "What's this? Bandages?" Peering closer, Courfeyrac saw a row of plastic butterfly stitches hiding under Marius' floppy hair. 

"What happened?" he says, horrified.

"I fell," Marius says evasively, not meeting Courfeyrac's eyes. "It's fine, Eponine fixed it up. Sorry I'm late."

Saving his skepticism for later, Courfeyrac prods Marius teasingly. "You'd better be - you missed my toast!"

"So moving!" Bahorel blubbered from behind them. For such a tough guy, Bahorel had quite the tendency to burst into tears during emotional moments, even when they weren't exactly tear-worthy. "Moving as shit!"

"Watch it, Bahorel, if my moms hear you-"

"I know, I know!" he sniffled, following Feuilly down the stairs.

"I thought Bahorel was the tough guy of the group," Marius said.

"He is. In fact, he's so tough, he doesn't even care that everyone is watching him cry. I find that pretty impressive." Courferyac smiled, but Marius wasn't listening- he was distracted by something. 

Someone. 

The shady girl behind him was staring in the same direction as Marius, directly over Courfeyrac's shoulder. He peeked behind him and caught a glimpse of Cosette and Grantaire heading down the stairs. Even though it stung that Marius would rather drool over Cosette than listen to him, Courfeyrac couldn't blame him: Cosette was beautiful.

"Are they together?" the girl behind Marius asked hoarsely.

"'Taire and Cosette?" Courfeyrac pointed at them over his shoulder with his thumb. Both of them, clearly concerned, nodded vigorously. "Nah, Grantaire's been absolutely mad over the same person since he moved here in fifth grade. It used to be really cute."

"And now?" Marius's focus shifted back to Courfeyrac as Cosette disappeared down the stairs.

"Not so much." Courferyac pursed his lips into a thin line. It wasn't that Courfeyrac was simply annoyed by Grantaire's constant, awful flirting with Enjolras, it was how destructive his little crush had become. Not to others, but to himself. Of course, many things had contributed to Grantaire's downward spiral, but his fondness for a severe guy like Enjolras wasn't helping him out. "C'mon, let's go downstairs."

Courfeyrac brought the two into the basement, not bothering to ask Marius who his little girlfriend was. Courfeyrac's basement had one couch, an oversized arm chair and a few bean bags that someone had managed to already drag out of storage. Enjolras and Cosette were on the side of the couch closest to the armchair that was claimed by Combeferre. Sitting on the desk across the room from Combeferre were Feuilly and Bahorel, sipping on some Mountain Dew. Joly and Jehan sat on the floor on either side of Musichetta in her chair. Two beanbags were set out in front of the couch, one for Bossuet beside Joly and the other at Enjolras' feet for Grantaire. Courfeyrac wasn't sure how safe it was for Grantaire to be within kicking range of Enjolras, especially while he was nursing a beer can. He gathered from the flush on Enjolras' face that Grantaire was already being a pest.

"Hey, Courfeyrac, are we gonna play Just Dance-" Joly clicked his tongue. "Or nahwt?" Musichetta had showed up with Joly as planned, which made Joly an awful mix of euphoric and terrified. Her condescending eye rolls and crossed arms were pretty intimidating. Of course she couldn't exactly leave, since she was in a wheel chair; they'd have to recruit Bahorel (Joly was too small to carry her) to bring her up the stairs and Combeferre to drag her chair behind them. Getting her home was a whole other issue. In short, Musichetta was stuck with Joly's quirky personality and excessive laughter. But if she really needed a way out, Courfeyrac did have a walkout basement but there was no way to the front yard without going up stairs.

"Yeah, kid! Turn it on!" Courfeyrac plopped down on the couch right next to Cosette just to spite Marius. His arm even snuck around her shoulders for a second before Enjolras glared him down. It was probably for the best anyways; he already felt guilty.  
Joly was fiddling with the Xbox and making any progress, so Courfeyrac went to help him. This served two purposes:

1\. It saved Joly the embarrassment of asking for help in front of Musichetta.

2\. It opened up a spot next to Cosette for a wounded Marius.

Trying to be aloof about it, Marius stole Courfeyrac's spot, and Eponine sat on the couch's arm, poised to fall into Marius' lap at the flimsiest opportunity. Courfeyrac muttered some instructions to Joly and stood in front of his friends, piled on the couch.

"Alright, for those of you who are new here, we play pairs, combine scores and the highest scoring pair wins their bracket. This could take all night, my friends." Courfeyrac clasped his hands together, his eyes not wavering from Marius' nervous, blue eyes. "When you're picking your partner tonight, guys, let's try to shake it up."

"Why are you looking at me?" Enjolras scoffed defensively.

"Seriously?" Combeferre gave the blond his worn-out fatherly glower. "You practically tackle me so I won't pair off with someone else!"

"Then you get awfully mad when Combeferre isn't as competitive as you, I don't think it's a good mix, dear." Jehan recounted his observations from his post sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Musichetta, showing off his purple Cootie-Catcher.  
Offended, Enjolras jutted out his full bottom lip and pouted to himself.

By the time Joly finally figured out the godforsaken contraption, people were already complaining about getting Grantaire for their partner, even though pairs were yet to be made.

"Don't get me wrong, bro, you can dance, but not drunk!" Bahorel exclaimed.

"Hey, but I'm the most entertaining when I play drunk!" Grantaire defended himself.

"All the more reason to drink away your life..." Enjolras murmured. Courfeyrac saw Grantaire bite his lip to keep from lashing out; he had been working on behaving for Enjolras, something Courfeyrac was proud of him for. It was hard to watch Enjolras be cruel to Grantaire, but sometimes he deserved it.

"Oi!" Courfeyrac calmed down the group. "Enjolras, no one wants to be with you. Grantaire, no one wants to be with you. Nothing personal, but it's the truth. So you'll have to be partners."

Immediately, Enjolras's voice and Grantaire's competed for Courfeyrac's attention, with Enjolras yelling out very reasonable, but somewhat rude points and Grantaire just trying to drown him out with obnoxious compliments directed at Enjolras. In the end, it was Jehan who put a stop to them with a few rhythmic claps which everyone echoed.

"Now Enjolras, now Grantaire, I think we all want to see how this pans out. Enlighten us, will you?" Jehan grinned.

Exasperated, Enjolras stared down at Grantaire, who wore a provoking smirk.

 

\---

 

Hopefully they would lose right away and Enjolras would be put out of his misery.   
They did not lose right away. In the end, it was Joly and Courfeyrac up against the hot-headed blond and Grantaire.

"Musichetta, are you sure you don't want to play? You can just do the arm stuff," Joly said again, anxiously.

"No, no. You play, Jehan's keeping me company." Joly was glad that Jehan and Combeferre had been eliminated first so that Jehan could be there with Tarot cards and origami at the ready to keep his date entertained. Still, Joly felt guilty that he wasn't giving Musichetta his undivided attention.

"If you're sure..."

"Joly!" Courfeyrac waved him over eagerly. "C'mon! We've got a game to win!"

They were second; it was the last dance of the night. Grantaire and Enjolras got to choose the song ("No, Grantaire! That song is sexist! There is no way I'm- Grantaire! I just told you specifically not- oh, that's real mature of you.") They, or rather Grantaire, chose Blurred Lines, much to everyone's dismay. Moaning and yelling about how the song was about date-rape and children unknowingly sing along, Enjolras suffered through the dance. Somehow they managed to pull off a decent score, but Courfeyrac was confident they could beat them.

Courfeyrac and Joly took their stance in front of the screen; the sound of cheering seemed distant as they focused on finding their center. "You ready?" Courfeyrac asked while Joly took one final, cleansing breath.

This was serious. He couldn't look like a fool in front of Musichetta. Winning this competition wouldn't mean much, but losing would be downright embarrassing. Very little progression was much better than any sort of digression.

3

Joly looked back at Musichetta; she looked bored but still stunning with her dark skin and irresistibly curly hair.

2

He took one final glance at Courfeyrac. He was peeking over his shoulder at Marius who was attempting to make a move on Cosette with the whole yawning trick. When that didn't work he tried the shooting star one. The display seemed like something Courfeyrac would laugh at, but he looked a little hurt instead.

1

Focus, Joly. Do it for Musichetta.   
He could picture winning, everyone cheering and Musichetta pulling him down by his collar to kiss him. That was the dream.  
Go!

The music blasted through the room, which made Joly fret about hearing loss. To Joly, this was less about making the right move, and more about avoiding mistakes. He looked over at Courfeyrac, his tongue hung out of his mouth in concentration. By the time they cleared the tricky ending, both of them were sweating.

The game tallied the score at a painstakingly slow pace. The suspension built, and built, until their score glowed on the screen. One point separated them from Enjolras and Grantaire's score. That point, that extra dash of precision in a single dance move had cost Enjolras and Grantaire their victory.

Courfeyrac pounced Joly in the excitement. Enjolras just gave Grantaire a look, even though Grantaire would have loved to be pounced. Joly turned back to the group in search of the one and only Musichetta. She was gone.

"Where's Musichetta?"

"She went outside. Something about needing some air." Bahorel pointed to the hall way that led to the walkout. Without a second thought, he hurried down the narrow hall to the glass sliding door. In a green spot in Courfeyrac's yard, Musichetta was watching the shimmering dark blue night sky.

"Musichetta, what're you doing out here?" Joly came up behind her, setting and gently in her shoulder. At his touch, she wheeled away, tearing up the grass and leaving ruts in the dirt.

"Did you win your game?" Musichetta sniffled.

"You're upset," Joly observed, immediately kneeling in front of her. "Do you want to talk?" Her tangles of hair bobbed as she shook her head. "Please, I want to know what I did wrong."

"Wrong?" Musichetta barked, unleashing her rage. "Let's start with the fact you brought me to some lame basement party for our first date!"

shit, you should have listened to Bossuet! 

"And then you ignore me all night and played effing Just Dance. Do you think it's fun for me to watch people doing things I can't?"

"I told you could just do arm-"  
"I don't want to do things differently. I don't want to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't put my feelings into consideration, Joly. I'm high maintenance, I know, but it's like you didn't even try to make me feel comfortable."

In that moment, Joly wanted nothing more than to have the ground below swallow him whole. Anything to escape this. He had screwed everything up, and because of his carelessness, someone he cared about was hurt. Musichetta was crying! Joly felt his eyes watering as emotional turmoil heated up his face.

"I'm so sorry - I didn't, I didn't think about - I mean, I didn't forget that you couldn't dance! I just - Courfeyrac's so good at romance, and I don't have a clue, and I thought -" He stumbled over the words in his panic, horrified by the tears now slipping freely down his face.

"Please don't cry." Musichetta wiped away her tears. "I really liked you, Joly. I just need someone who not only can do the things I need, but wants to. I don't want to date someone who loves me despite my disability, I want someone who loves me for me, chair and all. Someone who wants to help me up access ramps, or into cars, and doesn't want to have a traditional first dance at their wedding. Someone who couldn't love me more even if I could literally run away with them. It's okay if you're not that guy, I can find someone-"

"I just- I never- you're like a flu shot!" he blurted out.

"Um?"

"I just really want you, even though it feel a little like getting a shot because you deserve so much better and it's no secret that you know so." Joly stood up and took her hands. "But like, when I'm around you, I feel so relaxed, worriless, weightless! Like nothing bad can happen. Ever! I don't have to worry about getting the flu. Metaphorically." Joly could tell he sounded like a blabbering idiot, so he kept his eyes focused on his shoes and endured Musichetta's unnerving silence. All at once, Musichetta was crying again. Joly felt the end of their short-lived relationship upon them.

"I'm sorry, I'll just go-" Before Joly could run away, burst through the door and cry into Bossuet's chest, Musichetta yanked him down by his shirt and kissed him. Square on the mouth, without any hesitation. When they pulled away, traces of tears drying on both of their flushed faces, Musichetta gave him a small, sincere smile.

"That was probably the most janked up, sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Does that mean I get a second chance?" Joly ventured cautiously.

"I think we can arrange something like that."

Joly was more than happy with that.


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey, guys!" Bossuet called from down the hall that Joly had run through to reach Musichetta. "You've gotta see this!" 

Almost everyone got up to go check- everyone except Cosette and Marius. She had looked so at ease the whole night, even with Marius next to her. He envied her for that. Of course, she had known all of the guests, save Musichetta, longer than Marius had, through Enjolras. 

"D'aw! Look at Joly kissing Musichett-er! Only happy endings come out of my basement!" Courfeyrac gushed from down the hall.

"Actually, this really didn't come out of your basement, more like your back yard..." Combeferre corrected. Marius could just sense Courfeyrac rolling his eyes at him.

Not a single word had been exchanged between Cosette and Marius that night; Marius was looking to change that. When he was around Cosette, it was more than butterflies gently batting their wings in tandem with her intoxicating eyelashes in his stomach, it was a tornado ripping at his insides until he felt like he might vomit.

Marius took a deep breath. "Hey." He could hear Courfeyrac groaning from down the hall, whether it was a coincidence or not.

"Hi." She smiled at him effortlessly, but it never reached her eyes. 

"Can we talk about that night?" Marius was shocked at his own courage, diving into that conversation without some thought-out beating around the bush. Clearly Cosette was surprised at his forwardness, too. 

"You mean the night you were being chased by that police officer?" Cosette clarified, with a mildly confused expression that didn't distract from her beauty one bit. 

"I wasn't being chased by the cops! Well, technically I was, but that's not what made that night memorable for me." Marius hung his head, as if he was already admitting defeat.

"What could possibly be more memorable than running from a police officer?" Cosette asked, but from the way she spoke, it was clear that she didn't want to know the answer. 

"You," Marius answered shyly. "How you smiled at me and the rest of the world stood still. How it seemed like you might have felt the way I feel. How you felt so familiar, and yet at the same time like no one I could ever have imagined."

"Marius, please, I can't deal with this right now," she pleaded.

"Why did you let me believe I had a chance?" Marius could feel himself getting emotional; he turned to his main coping mechanism: forcing the most ridiculously big smile. "And then rip my heart out?"

"You don't know what you're saying, Marius. I promise, this is for the better. I don't want to hurt you."

Baffled, Marius stared at her, trying to piece together some argument that had to do with love and possibly included a metaphor, but he just sputtered out noises and tried not to break down in front of her. Why was she worried about hurting him? Wasn't breaking his fragile heart painful enough?

"Dude! How long have they been sucking face?" Bahorel laughed.

"Too long!" By the way the person accented his phrase by tapping the window-glass with his bottle, one could tell it was Grantaire. "Looks like Joly's pretty red. He must be running out of air!"

"Or," Enjolras said warningly, "he sees you all invading his privacy and is a bit embarrassed. "

"Enjolras is right," Combeferre sighed. "Come on, children. Let's give those two their privacy." Marius heard them sulk back down the hall with loud groans and Courfeyrac trying to play his ukulele like a cliched, wailing violin. 

"Look who we left alone!" Courfeyrac forced a smirk, and Marius blushed brightly. Courfeyrac plopped down beside them with a giggle. "Y'know what would be fun?"

"Courfeyrac, need I remind you that we are under-aged?" Combeferre quirked an eyebrow as the rest of the group filed in to take a seat.

"I wasn't suggesting we retry what we did last New Year's!" Courfeyrac rolled his smiling eyes good-naturedly. "God, am I ever going to live that one down?"

"Probably not, dear." Jehan gave his back a soothing rub before settling on the floor. "But personally, I enjoyed the little experiment. Although I'm sure we killed a few too many brain cells, the sensation of flying was well worth it." The two smiled at each other, perfect chums. Marius really enjoyed Courfeyrac and Jehan's dynamic; he even thought they would make a cute couple. 

"See, guys?" Courfeyrac broke his steady smile fest with Jehan to chew out the others. "Just like I've always said, Jehan's the only one who understands me!" Naturally, he was just being an over-dramatic jokester; Courfeyrac was a performer through and through.

"Alright, alright!" Grantaire crushed a beer can in his hands. "What were you saying, Courfeyrac? Now that we've ruled out smoking weed." 

"Truth or dare!" As soon as the words escaped his mouth, there was a loud muddle of protest, and Feuilly even pelted him with a paper airplane. 

"Seriously, Courf, how old are we?" 

"C'mon, it would give us something to do!" Courfeyrac looked to Jehan, who hadn't fought against it. "Jehan, truth or dare?"

"Truth." Jehan tucked his legs into a criss-cross position. He was sitting on the floor in front of Courfeyrac in cut-off shorts and a sweater that would have been over-sized on an average person, but looked like it was digesting little Jehan.

"What's the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you?" 

Jehan's eyes lit up instantly. he had his answer immediately. "Once, during the battle of Gettysburg-"

"Uh, Jehan?" Bahorel interrupted.

"Hmm?"

"In this lifetime."

"Oh! Then I don't know!" Jehan shrugged, almost dazed. "Enjolras, truth or dare?" He offered the blond a mild smile.

Enjolras wasn't very into playing childish, unimportant games such as Truth or Dare. If it were up to him, they would be passionately discussing the Hobby Lobby case, but this wasn't his party, so he went along with it, trying his best not to be bitter. "Dare." 

Enjolras was very intimidating to Marius, what with him being Cosette's brother and having an impressive glare, but the way he chose dare with a devilish grin made him seem more human, instead of the almighty-god-of-social-justice impression he usually gave off.

"I dare you to sit on Grantaire's lap for the rest of the game. Is that an acceptable dare, Courfeyrac?"

"It's a lot better than when you dared him to wear Bahorel's 'Cool Story Babe Now Make Me a Sandwich' shirt to school. At least this benefits our resident hipster cynic." Courfeyrac set a hand on Jehan's bony shoulder. 

"Not a hipster!" Grantaire defended himself.

"That's just what a hipster would say!" Eponine smirked. 

"Aw, shut up! I thought I was beginning to like you, Ebony."

"Eponine," she corrected. 

"Potato, pah-tah-toe!" Grantaire dismissed. "So, you gonna sit on my lap or not, pretty boy?"

"Don't call me that," Enjolras growled, between gritted teeth. It was clear to Marius that Grantaire had a thing for Enjolras. It was just as plain that Enjolras had a certain distaste for Grantaire. Marius couldn't actually blame Enjolras; Grantaire was always making advances on Enjolras while at the same time making fun of his idealism and love of equality.

"You've gotta do it, Enjolras. It's the rules of truth or dare!" Bahorel said, in a frighteningly serious tone. 

Pouting, Enjolras climbed onto Grantaire's lap. "Fine, but the second you get too handsy, Grantaire-"

"I know, I know. You'll castrate me." Grantaire smirked. "By the way, it's your turn, Enjolras."

Enjolras crossed his arms. "Courfeyrac, you can have my turn." 

While Bahorel looked like he was ready to google whether or not that was a legal move in the official game of Truth or Dare, Courfeyrac gladly accepted. Truth or Dare wasn't Marius' thing, so he averted his eyes, hoping that the lack of eye contact would steer the eccentric boy to prey on someone else for a change. To his relief, he felt a set of eyes scan over him, then flicker away. The feeling of being overlooked ended all too abruptly.  
The operation had failed. 

"Marius, truth or dare!" Marius' heart sank. There was no way he could pick truth, as he didn't want to confess his undying love for Cosette any more than he already had; but God knew what obscene dares Courfeyrac had up his sleeve.

"Can I pass?" 

Courfeyrac looked like he was about to let him off the hook when Enjolras got all pissy. "No! If I had to sit on Grantaire's lap, you have to perform whatever childish, sexual acts Courfeyrac can come up with!" Marius noticed that Enjolras didn't seem as uncomfortable cuddled up to Grantaire as he had been initially. He had eased into something that looked like snuggling, with Grantaire hugging him from behind and Enjolras gripping Grantaire's arms. Grantaire's head was nuzzled in the nape of Enjolras' neck and both parties seemed to be having a good time. Enjolras really shouldn't be complaining. Maybe if Marius picked dare, he'd end up as content as Enjolras and Grantaire. 

"Alright, dare." By the way Courfeyrac's face contorted into a wicked smile, Marius could tell that was the answer he had been hoping for. Either Courfeyrac had something wonderful, or something mortifying planned.

"I dare you to kiss Cosette." 

Mortifying. Definitely mortifying. The once bubbly crowd went dead silent. You may have not been about to hear a pin drop because of the carpeting, but you could certainly make out the sound of Marius sweating. Yes, his sweat had reached an audible level.

He looked into Cosette's terrified eyes. Neither of them wanted it to happen. Marius didn't want to kiss her if she didn't want to be kissed, and Cosette didn't want to let herself feel anything for Marius. Everyone was staring, the room was spinning, he could feel his chest heaving but no air got past his choked throat. Marius felt like throwing up. All the demons of his anxiety were attacking him at once. He had to get out, away from all these people's eyes, all the muffled hooting and hollering, all the stress of simply being. 

At the same time, they darted upstairs to escape the situation, leaving the onlookers stunned. Enjolras wasted no time chasing after his little sister, Grantaire trailing behind, expecting to comfort her instead. A few others felt the urge to go help, but no one was sure how.

"Maybe they wanted some privacy for their kiss?" Courfeyrac hypothesized. 

Someone (definitely not Combeferre) lobbed a pillow at him. "Go fix this, Courfeyrac." 

"So much for only happy endings coming from your basement." Bahorel rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," Eponine added. "Is this how all your parties end, Courfeyrac?"  
"Lately, yes." Courfeyrac hung his head.

"Don't despair, Courfeyrac. You tried your best." Jehan gave Courfeyrac's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I think some friendly marijuana would have been a better idea than Truth or Dare, to be perfectly honest."

"Why are all our parties so over-dramatic these days?" Feuilly wondered aloud. 

Combeferre had a pretty accurate answer. "A horrible mixture of hormones and sexual frustration." 

 

\---

 

"Cosette!" Enjolras called from the front yard, as the rain that had been threatening all evening soaked his clothes. "Cosette, where are you?"

He couldn't bear to think about what might happen if Cosette was left alone too long while this upset. She had a history of dysphoria-related depression, which for some reason Marius seemed to have brought back.

"She's in the bathroom off of the living room," Grantaire answered, as he trudged through the muddy lawn.

"What're you doing out here?" Enjolras' blue eyes narrowed at the sight of Grantaire's sickly frame creeping towards him in the misty dark.

"I was looking for Cosette, we're really good friends." Grantaire shrugged, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. "Then I decided I ought to find you to tell you that you can go back downstairs."

"Go downstairs?" Enjolras scoffed. "She's my sister, it's my job to comfort her!" Enjolras tried to push past him.

"Enjolras, I think it's best if you let me handle this. She's pretty shaken up," Grantaire suggested, trying very hard not to turn this into a fight.

"Oh and why do you think that you can handle this after being all 'BFF-QB-TTYL' with her for like three days!" Enjolras' glare cut through Grantaire like a knife. He wasn't going to let some cynical, alcoholic artist with a cigarette poking out of his mouth comfort his little sister. The fact that his father even let Cosette near him was bad enough.

"Four days, actually," Grantaire corrected. "And 'best friends forever quarter back talk to you later'? I'm not understanding."

"Just let me handle this, Grantaire!" Enjolras shoved him away, walking up the gravel path to the front door with a determined gait. "You don't understand her."

"I don't understand her?" Grantaire blocked the door. "That's real rich coming from you! Y'know what she told me the other day?" Grantaire prodded Enjolras' s puffed-out, assertive chest with his lit cigarette.

"Get that thing away from me! Unlike you, I plan on making it past 30." Enjolras swatted the cigarette out of his hand and onto the gravel path, where rain was already beginning to collect, and Grantaire watched as the light died, wondering exactly how many cigarettes Enjolras owed him for putting them out without permission. His rage-blown ice blue eyes pierced into Enjolras' own impressive, deep blue eye glare. 

"At least I'm living! All you're doing is wasting your life on trying to change the world! God! You're seventeen and you've never even been kissed, let alone lost your virginity! You hardly ever cuss! You're the only one of us who refuses to drink and smoke, and your social life is scheduled around political debates on TV!" 

"Oh, f-" Enjolras stopped himself.

"What? You can't let an f-bomb drop? Not going to stoop to my level? Do it! Tell me to eff off!" Grantaire taunted.

"I would, but you're really not worth it." He got right in Grantaire's face to ensure that his words stung. Grantaire came right back with what Cosette said about him. The words of his little sister carried more weight than anything Grantaire could ever throw at him.  
"She says she doesn't think you understand her, you being all aromantic and asexual. I can't blame her, she doesn't want advice on her crush from some heartless, icy bastard!"

Crush? Cosette had a crush on someone?

"Grey-aromantic, grey-asexual," Enjolras corrected coldly. "And it does not make me heartless or less of a person to not experience attraction very often, it makes you less of a person for mocking me!" Both ready to lunge and rip out the other's jugular, the two stood with their red faces barely an inch apart. 

Grantaire and Enjolras could never get along; it was written in the stars. Grantaire was his reverse, his opposite, but sometimes it almost seemed as if they obeyed the law of complimentary colors, gravitating towards each other anyway. Enjolras used to think he could Enjolras used to think he could change Grantaire, better him, even build a quality bond. That idealistic dream seemed to have passed. 

 

"Oh, please, great one, tell me how unworthy I am!" Grantaire sneered. "Please tell me how useless I am, and why you gave up on me, but I never gave up on you!" Enjolras couldn't quite tell if it was the rain, or if Grantaire was crying. "Not once!" His broken voice gave his emotions away. 

"Do you think it was easy? Do you think I wanted to admit I couldn't help you?" Enjolras had never heard himself yell like that; it sounded more like he was scolding himself than Grantaire."I tried so hard, but you- you never let me in. You hid behind your vices and sarcasm, and cynicism and-and all sorts of bullshit!" Enjolras couldn't help but let his passion topple over into raw tears. "It's just like you always said! I can't fix everything! And I most certainly cannot fix someone who doesn't want to be fixed!" 

Grantaire had a way of frustrating Enjolras, and he couldn't grasp why. No one ever made Enjolras' heart beat as fast as Grantaire did, no one's touch sent shivers down his spine The only cause Enjolras could come up with to explain these feelings was hatred.

"I only have one reason to get better," Grantaire growled. 

"And what might that be? So you can-"

"You!" Grantaire cried before Enjolras could say something malicious. "It's always been you. I know if I change, you might- ugh!" Grantaire banished the thought. "But I can't! I drink, I smoke, I'm a pest, all because I don't know how to cope! You make me want to get better, and at the same time, you're part of the problem! Jesus! You know why I understand Cosette better than you do?" Enjolras stood there, silent. "Because I know what it's like to not be able to act on my feelings for someone!" 

Stunned, Enjolras watched Grantaire stare at him expectantly for a long moment.   
Grantaire's face scrunched up in despair, and he shook his head, making breathy fits of noise that Enjolras could never hope to decipher. Before Enjolras could offer any consoling words, Grantaire was gone.

 

\---

 

The fluorescent lights blurred in Cosette's watery eyes as she hugged her knees, skin pressed against the cold porcelain of the vintage bathtub. Everything was spiraling out of control; her feelings, Marius' feelings, her feelings about Marius' feelings. She couldn't handle it! There was no doubt in her mind that she loved Marius more than she had initially thought, but there was even less doubt that they could never be. No high school boy in his right mind could ever love a trans girl. 

 

This was worse than she could have imagined her first week of high school to be. Bullying she could handle, but falling for the boy she used to love when she was three feet tall and not being able to return the love he thought he felt for her was unbearable.

Knuckles rapped against the door, startling her. "Cosette?" Enjolras was at the door. He had always been there when she had needed him through her days of living as male and her transition. She used to just tell him to go away, promising she wasn't crying or going to do anything to harm herself. These were always lies to protect Enjolras. But eventually her burden had become too much to bear alone, and she had recruited Enjolras to lighten her load.

"Enjolras?" she sniffled. 

"Cosette, let me help you," he begged.

"It's unlocked." With that, Enjolras flung open the door, scrambling to kneel before the bathtub. 

"What's wrong?" He panted. 

Cosette did her very best to force a smile and assure him that she was fine, but no matter how many times she sang the line 'I will not cry, I'm okay.' from the Broadway flop, Carrie the Musical, there was no escaping the breakdown Enjolras was clearly prepared for. 

Tears streaking her face, Cosette lunged forward to hug Enjolras, her hands clutching the fabric of Enjolras's shirt and twisting it in her grasp. "I love him!" she sobbed into his shirt. 

"Who?" Enjolras kept his voice at a low, soothing volume. 

"Marius!" Cosette's pleasant wittering was muffled by her brother's body. "And worst of all, he thinks he loves me back!" 

She knew Enjolras didn't really understand, or could even distinguish romantic feelings, so she didn't expect what she just said to click right away. "How is that a bad thing?"

"I'm leading him on, Enjolras! He thinks I'm a girl!"  
"And why shouldn't he, Cosette?"

"Because no matter how much make up I coat my face in, no matter how much I stuff my bra, no matter how much estrogen I can pump into my body, there will always be the wrong parts in my Victoria's Secret underwear! I'm a girl to me, and to you, but he will never accept me, and he shouldn't have to! He doesn't love me! I don't even love me!" Cosette wailed. 

All the sudden her mind was back in her room, the walls were navy blue and the bed was covered in Thomas the Tank Engine sheets and her full-length mirror was leaning against the wall. She was looking at herself in the mirror as mascara dripped down her cheeks. She remembered she would do this every night when she was still living (if you could even call it living) as a little boy. Nobody had known then that she was in fact a she, so she spent her nights picking apart her male appearance in the mirror. 

She would cringe at her flat chest, at the fact that she wasn't in a night gown and that there were no curlers in her boyish, blonde hair. All she had was a tube of lipstick and some mascara she had found to keep herself sane. 

"You're not a pretty girl, why would you want to change?" she used to say to herself in efforts to change her mind. "You'll never be a pretty girl." 

Cosette remembered slashing out her reflection with her bright red lipstick. No matter how much she said it, and even if at times she believed it, or if she was a good-looking boy, it wouldn't change the fact that she could never be happy in her body. It wasn't about being attractive, it was about having her body reflect her true self. 

Enjolras was shushing her gently when she snapped out of her past. "Cosette, you are just as worthy of being loved as the next girl. You're not leading him on, but if you want to have a relationship with him, you're going to have to be honest with him. If Marius truly cares about you, he'll know that no matter what your body says, you are the girl for him."

Cosette managed to settle down a tad. "And if he doesn't?" 

"Then there must be someone even better for you in store." Enjolras booped her nose sweetly, and all of Cosette's tears dissolved with a grateful smile.


	8. Chapter 8

Marius never thought he would get over his fear of the dark, and in truth he hadn't that night. The dark was just the lesser of two evils. Staying in that basement with all those eyes, all that pressure, and that beautiful girl staring at him in terror was hell. So, he ventured off into the darkness. It didn't matter that he was absolutely terrified, as long as he was far away from that dreadful game of Truth or Dare

He and Eponine had walked over so that Marius' grandfather wouldn't notice a missing car. And yes, his grandfather would notice the car was missing before he'd notice Marius was missing. 

Marius was wishing he brought a scarf when he heard foot steps pitter-pattering behind him. 

God damn it, Pontmercy! If you get chased by the cops tonight I swear to God-

The sound was getting closer and in turn, Marius already brisk pace quickened with his heart rate. The louder the running became, the faster Marius ran. He was really wishing that he had brought car keys to put between his fingers as a weapon.

"Yo, purple-pants!" Eponine's crackled voice called him. "Wait up!" 

Marius sighed in relief that it was just Eponine and he didn't have to run for his life. "Oh, it's just you."

"Just me?" Eponine teased, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Marius shrugged her arm off and kept his eyes on the damp pavement. Socializing was draining for Marius, he didn't have the strength to speak to Eponine at the time. He wished he was an extrovert like Courfeyrac, that way he might not be as shy or as worn out by quick chat. "Common, Pontmercy, unload on me! We're already half way home! I know you're upset about what that dumb ass Courfeyrac dared you to do." 

"Courfeyrac's not a dumb ass," Marius mumbled."He's my best friend."

"Oh, already forgetting who your real friends are, are we?" Eponine sneered, suddenly bitter.

"You know what I meant." Marius rolled his eyes.

"Y'know, Pontmercy? I have half I mind to leave you here alone." She stepped in front of him and walked backwards with her arms crossed over her nearly flat chest. "but I won't because I don't need anyone telling you to 'Get home safe, beautiful'." She joked in her best impression of a creepy man voice. Sadly, she knew the exact tone a slimy man would use.

"I think you should worry about yourself, 'Ponine," Marius said, certain no grabby guy would be talking to him from the side of the road.

"Let's face it, kid. You're the pretty one. I'm the brains." Before Marius could argue that he was a grade above her in all advanced classes, and had enough credits to graduate at the end of the year, Eponine clarified. "Sure, you've got the whole book smarts thing going for you, but you wouldn't stand a chance on the street without me! I mean, you'd be in dork clothes if it wasn't for me!" She playfully shoved him. "And you wouldn't've seen this shortcut!" Eponine's eyes lit up at the sight of a field of tall grass. Standing with one foot in the straw and the other planted on the pavement, she reached out her hand. "Gaurenteed to shave ten might minutes off our time!" She tempted. 

"Promise it won't get us arrested?" Marius asked.

She stuck out her pinky, preparing for Marius to link his onto it. "Promise." With a smile, Marius hooked his pinky around her boney offering and she pulled him into the field by it. 

The tall grass itched against Marius's exposed arms as their feet crunched the vegetation sprouting on the wet soil. It was a familiar sensation that triggered all the memories of this field. It was the field Marius grew up running through with Eugene and Eponine. He remembered how pleased Eugene was that in some places the grass's height exceeded his own and they could menouver through the field, unseen. Marius never understood why Eugene liked to be hidden, but he didn't question it. 

Eponine was always there, lurking behind some days and leading the adventure others. Both Marius and Eponine favored Eugene. Eponine was always grabbing his hand and Marius would get mad when Eponine tried to steal him away. What Marius really didn't understand was why Eponine was so clingy with Eugene outside of the motel, but inside those walls she was cruel to Eugene. 

After Eugene was taken out of their lives, Eponine directed her affection towards Marius. It was like Eugene never existed. 

"Now, are you going to tell me about what's going through that pretty little mind of yours or not?" She purposely bumped into him. Keeping his eyes on his shoes, Marius shrugged and half-heartly agreed to spill.

"'Ponine, have you ever been in love?" He began. 

"I like to think so." She smiled.

"But have you ever been in love with someone who doesn't feel the same way?" 

"Like you wouldn't believe, kid." 

"Well, that's what it's like for me with Cosette." Marius sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. 

"And that's not what you want with her?" Eponine murmured.

"No!" Marius exclaimed. "I love her! She's all I think about! Why doesn't she want to be with someone who would do anything for her?"

For a long, melancholy moment the two just walked together, only the rustling of straw filling the silence. The full moon hanging in the starry sky seemed more lively than the two for that moment. Marius felt very small all the sudden, like the inhale and exhale of his lungs was meaningless. If Cosette didn't care when he was prepared to give her everything, if he wasn't enough, did he matter? Did he have any real value? What was his worth when there were countless stars in the sky that he couldn't even compare to? 

"I don't know, Marius."

 

\---

 

Marius politely said his goodbyes to Eponine as he crawled into his bedroom through Eponine's usual entrance. He had kept his window unlocked, risking a break in, but at least he could get inside after the party. Very carefully, Marius pulled his window shut before tip-toeing to his light switch. Changing clothes in the dark was not his specialty.

"Hello, Marius," His Grandfather greeted from the arm chair in the corner. 

Marius jumped, slipped on his Pajama pants and fell flat on his bum. "Grandfather!" He squealed. When Marius snuck out earlier that night, he didn't really consider the possibility if getting caught. This was a mistake, he didn't even have a good time at the party! This was not worth whatever punishment his grandfather could imagine.

"I assume you were with those dirty sinners," he said from behind his Newspaper. 

"Grandfather, they're not bad people. They're very nice, and they go to church every Sunday. I know I shouldn't have snuck out, but-"

"But nothing, Marius!" He rolled up his newspaper and began wagging it at him like an old, bitter man in a cartoon shakes his cane at the kid dashing across his lawn "I thought you could handle public school! I thought you were responsible enough to make good choices!" 

As his grandfather went off on him, Marius avoided eye-contact. He just focused on the rolled up newspaper that was coming closer and closer to smacking Marius' nose. The blocky titles came in and out of focus until suddenly one title came to him clearly. A glimpse of his last name caught his eye, it read: Highly Decorated Soldier Pontmercy Dies.

"H-how old is that paper?" Marius interrupted his Grandfather's babbling.

"Marius, you listen when I talk to you! Do you hear me, young man?" He pulled the paper close to his wrinkled body. 

"How old is that paper?" Marius growled between gritted teeth.

"Stop trying to change the subject!" His Grandfather was getting spastic, Marius never got assertive like this. 

Without warning, Marius lunged forward and snatched the paper. His Granfather demanded he give it back at once and even tried to take it back, but in the end, he was no match for Marius. He leapt onto his bed and read it, standing up so the paper was out of reach. 

Purple Heart and Medal of Honor recipient, George Pontmercy passes away at age 39 due to medical complications. His only regret was not seeing his only son grow up. Read more on page 16. 

"This is from today." Marius pursed his lips and gave a calm nod. 

"Marius, please, let me explain-"

"This is from today!" Marius had never screamed like that, and he did not like his voice that loud. Suddenly, he was curled up on his bed, shaking and sobbing. Worst of all, he didn't even understand why he was so upset. He never met the man, it was just the lies. 

Last year he got a tattered, yellow envelope, marked with an excessive amount of postal stamp in the mail that, in little detail, explained his father's body was found, washed up on the shore of some little island after an investigation that lasted nearly a decade. Had everything been a lie?

"Y-you told me he d-died years ago!" Marius bawled. "That letter! How c-could you!" 

"I did because I love you," he promised.

"You love me? I didn't know keeping me away from my own dad was love! I didn't know lying was love!" Marius was on his feet, advancing towards the worried old man. This wasn't like Marius to stand up to him, he should be worried. "He wanted me! He wanted to know me!" 

"You don't know that!" His Grandfather was trying to calm him down, and failing miserably. 

"It says so write here!" His finger jabbed page 16 over and over as tears streamed down his red face. "Right here," he quivered. "I could've had a father! I could've had a father." Marius collapased on his bed and buried his head in his palms to cry in peace. Everything was happening so fast, he was overwhelmed. All he could think about was what might have been if he had been raised by his father. Even though he had never met him, deep down he could sense that he was an honest man with a pure heart over flowing with love for his only son. Anyone was better than his grandfather. 

"Marius." The bed creaked as his grandfather sat next to him and offered a comforting hand in his shoulder."You're father was not well. He had seen too much-"

"Get out," Marius demanded. 

"Marius, I'm just trying to-"

"I said get out!" Marius voice rattled the man to his core, he knew he better leave and let Marius cool down. But Marius didn't intend on calming down. 

As soon as the door shut, Marius sprang to his feet and thrashed open his closet door. Behind all his nerdy clothes, there was a light purple duffle bag Marius had used when he used to play tennis competitively. He dumped out it's contents on the floor, not bothering to sort through it. Mind reeling, Marius stuffed clothes and a few possessions into the pockets. By the time he had everything from his favorite sweater vest to his dental floss all packed up, the bag was bulging, sleeves popping out of the zippers and side pockets bursting with heavy books.

Marius' world had just been turned upside down, he didn't have time for rational thinking. His entire life, everything he knew, had been a carefully crafted lie that had just unravelled before his very eyes. Nothing made sense anymore. Why didn't anyone tell him? How could his Grandfather keep this from him after years of him begging for stories about his father? Why didn't Marius deserve the truth? Why didn't he deserve his father?

With a scarf around his neck and his pea coat securely buttoned, Marius heaved the duffle bag over his shoulder. The weight throw off Marius' balance and he wobbled into the wall, only to fight back to his feet. Drenched in sweat, tears, and a hell of a lot of determination, Marius trudged to his window. Cold air greeted him as he throw it open and stepped out. 

He couldn't live with a man who lied to him like that. He couldn't even look at a man who lied to him like that! He really should've saw this coming, not the betrayal, but his grandfather finally pushing him over the edge. It was over, whatever string of a bond they had left, had been demolished. Marius was never looking back. 

 

\---

 

Marius had paced in front of Courfeyrac's basement door for 18 minutes, trying to come up with a way to politely impose on his hospitality. A few different scenarios ran through Marius mind on his way over but they all sounded rude. Being rude to Courfeyrac, his best friend, was not exactly ideal. 

His first idea was just to ask if Courfeyrac wanted to have a sleep over, and then over stay his welcome. If Courfeyrac ever confronted him, Marius would spill his little sob story and Courfeyrac wouldn't have the heart to kick him out. But upon further reflection, he realized just how dumb that idea was.

Idea after idea came and passed until he just gave up and eat against the door. Sitting there, all alone in the dark, Marius began to think he may have made a mistake. He had every right to be upset, but running away from home was a bit extreme. Besides, you can't just show up at someone's house and demand a bed and a place mat at their dinner table. 

Before Marius knew it, he was crying again. He wished he had never went to that party, that way he wouldn't've gotten his heart broken, and he could live forever in blissful ignorance about his father's death. If he never went to that party, he could be at home, asleep and not pathetically snivelling into his hands. He might be okay. 

"Marius?" He felt the door slide open behind him. Startled, Marius staggered to his feet and whipped around to see Courfeyrac standing at the door. His hair was doing it's best to defy gravity under his Xbox Live headset. Of course Courfeyrac would be up at this hour, drinking around on Call of Duty.

There wasn't any time to think, Marius said the first thing that came to mind: "I've come to sleep with you!" he blurted out. 

There was beat of silence. Then, from Courfeyrac's headset, the prepubescent voice of twelve year old boy said, "Gayyyyy!" 

Marius felt heat rushing to his face as he scrambled to insist there was nothing sexual about what he had said. All he wanted was to room with Courfeyrac, hands in respectful places. "That's- no, that's not what I meant! I just- I ran away and- well I just thought- you've got bunk beds and your moms are so nice! And I never really had a mom, so- AND MY DAD! My grandfather- and the n-newspaper! It was from today! TODAY! And I-I could've had a father!" Marius deflated, hanging his head. 

"Got to go," Courfeyrac mumbled into his headset before shutting it off. "Hey, Marius!" Courfeyrac used his best enthusiastic counseller voice. "What're you doing at my house at one in the morning?" Courfeyrac did not let his false animation falter. 

Marius didn't answer, he shrugged and felt like he was about to cry. At that moment, Courfeyrac realized something was very wrong. "Come on, let's get you some ice cream." Marius felt Courfeyrac's hand folding around his own and tugging him into the house. 

Off the hallway, Courfeyrac's door was hanging open, a bright light shining inside and the TV on. Marius stumbled in, guided by Courfeyrac. "You lay down, alright? I'll get you some ice cream." Courfeyrac gently directed Marius on his bottom bunk, gave his hair a quick ruffle, flicked the TV off and hopped off to scoop some ice cream.

From what Marius had been told, he knew Courfeyrac had an older brother, which explained the bunk beds. A few years back, Courfeyrac's older brother enlisted in the Air Force and they hardly saw each other after that. Courfeyrac insisted on keeping the bunk bed for nostalgic purposes. He was still alive, but contact was limited. Courfeyrac kept a box of all the letters his brother had ever sent him under his bed. They were his prized possessions. 

Marius stared up at the bottom of the top bunk, wondering what kind of man used to sleep there. How much of Courfeyrac was based off this pilot? How close were they? Could Marius ever compare?

"I hope you like rocky road because that's really all we've got," Courfeyrac said, bowls and spoons clanking in hand. "I would've just brought the carton down, but Joly gave this big lecture about it once, and-"

"It's okay, really." Marius sat up. "Thank you."

"No prob!" Courfeyrac plopped down next to him and handed him a bowl. "So kid, why'd you run away?" Courfeyrac asked between globs of already melty ice cream. 

Marius shrugged. "My grandfather is a homophobic cheese head."

"Cheese head, huh?" Courfeyrac giggled. "And what does being a cheese head entail?" 

"Telling your grandson that his father died like forever and a half ago in freaking Narnia when he was really alive until like yesterday." Marius grumbled coldly. "I could've had a dad." 

"I know what you mean. Not about your granddad being a scuz-mobile, but the wanting a dad. I mean, I love my moms, and they've taught me a lot about acceptance and love and all that good stuff, but having a dad to do dad things with would be pretty sweet."

Marius nodded, stirring his soupy ice cream around. He actually never minded not having a father until he realised he had an actual, living father until recently. One that wanted to be there for him. "I don't think I can go back, Courfeyrac."

"Understood!" Courfeyrac grabbed Marius bowl and stacked it on his. "You can stay for the night and I'll ask my moms if you can crash here."

"For how long?" Marius asked.

"As long as you need, sport." Courfeyrac left the room again to clean out the bowls and put them in the dishwasher. Marius had took the opportunity to change out of his ridiculous, purple pants into some pajamas. Montparnasse would be missing his clothes, and it was good manners to return stolen clothing clean, so Marius tossed the outfit into Courfeyrac's pop-up hamper. He slid off his socks, carefully. Clad only in his tighty-whities, Marius began the search for pajamas. 

"Whoa, there!" Courfeyrac gasped at the sight of Marius delicate frame. 

Immediately, Marius snapped straight up, blushing something furious. "I-uh- pajamas!" he stuttered. "Sorry!"

"Oh no, don't apologize! No complaints here!" Courfeyrac winked at the flustered, half-naked cutie before hopping into bed. "You just take your time there, Marius. The top bunk is waiting for you when you're ready."

Though a bit of a flirt, slightly overbearing, and much more extroverted than anyone Marius could ever imagine, Courfeyrac was still the most generous person he had met to date. He was very glad he had a friend like Courfeyrac to scoop him off the street.


	9. Chapter 9

Courfeyrac's favorite thing about eating lunch outside was- well, eating outside. The sun warming his tan skin, the birds tweeting and flittering about was a welcomed change from stuffy classrooms and crowded hallways. Even if there was a drizzle, it sure beat flakes of crusty ceiling tiles landing in his meat-surprise. 

But nothing compared to people-watching, it was God's gift to society. It was like real-life Facebook stalking without the possibility of a someone filing a restraining order. He loved watching cliches trickle in and out of the school as he munched in his carrot sticks, seeing a stranger and imagining an entire back story for them that was probably a hundred times more interesting then their actual life. 

Once, last spring, he sat on the same grassy spot everyday, sometimes surrounded by friends, other times alone, and he watched the same two friends under an oak tree. At the beginning of spring, the two girls appeared to be best friends, laughing together and being themselves without caring about what other people thought. Slowly, the blonde one started getting more and more self conscious, and frankly a little more fashionable.

One day, one of the girls, the one with blonde hair, brought over a boy who appeared to be her boyfriend, the other didn't seem happy. The next day, the blonde girl who Courfeyrac had named Naomi, came alone to say something to her ginger friend, who Courfeyrac had named Opal. Naomi waved goodbye and sat with her boyfriend, who Courfeyrac called Devon.

Naomi didn't go back on her own, she stayed with her boyfriend and left Opal all alone under the oak tree. Just when Courfeyrac was losing hope on Naomi and Opal's friendship, he saw Opal talking to Naomi one day at lunch. Both were very serious and suddenly Opal started crying. Noami tried to calm her down and out of no where, she kissed her. 

In one spring, Courfeyrac watched to girls go from best friends, to ex-friends, all the way to girlfriends. He was beginning to hope that Cosette was just temporary, just a Devon, and that Marius could be his Naomi. 

That day, Courfeyrac was nearly alone. For company, he had Bahorel and Feuilly tossing a football in the grass in front of the bench he was eating on. Feuilly was doing his best to help prepare Bahorel for the fast approaching homecoming game, even though Enjolras demanded they boycott the game after the coach got away with saying some really cruel, homophobic remarks to Jehan when he tried out for the football team. Bahorel couldn't miss the game, he was first string and already on the coaches bad side for defending Jehan.

Fortunately, Enjolras was suggesting they boycott the dance. There would be a riot, especially since Musichetta had agreed to go with Joly. Enjolras wasn't a dictator, he hardly liked being seen in a position of power in their group, anyone could go to the game if they so chosed. Enjolras just thought they shouldn't support the coach who bullied Jehan. Of course, that was countered by Grantaire who argued that Jehan had forgiven the coach and they should show their support for Bahorel. 

Courfeyrac wasn't planning on going to the game, but he was sure he would be going to the dance. Hopefully with Marius. 

"Hey, Courfeyrac!" Out of nowhere, Marius dashed out in front of Courfeyrac. He was back in his usual, sweater vest ensemble. It was too bad, really. Courfeyrac really liked what he wore to his party a two weeks ago. 

"Come to eat lunch with me?" Courfeyrac smiled. Lately, Marius had been eating lunch in the greenhouse with some booky teacher who stood with one foot in the grave. Apparently the man knew his father. 

At first, Courfeyrac had tried to eat with Marius there, but he nearly feel asleep eating a sandwich, and he felt that Marius discussing literature and his father with the man was a strangely private thing. So, Courfeyrac began eating outside as he knew the warm weather could turn at any moment and he wanted to savor each moment of sunshine before the gloom of winter cast over the region. 

"I've missed eating with you. Even though I get to eat with you all the time at home." Marius's soft blush drove the butterflies in Courfeyrac's stomach wild. He sat down on the bench with him and stirred his applesauce with the little red straw the school distributed with each purchased lunch. 

Courfeyrac liked how Marius felt comfortable enough living with him that he was even beginning to call the place home. Whenever he mentioned the house he and his grandfather had lived in for the majority of his life, he called it his grandfather's house. The word home was reserved for Courfeyrac's place. 

"I've missed eating with you too." For a moment, the two sat in companionable silence, prodding at their meals, unsure if the other was going to strike up a conversation, and not wanting to have a sporkful of salad in their mouths in case the other did. 

"So, homecoming's coming up this week," Marius said, trying to fake some confidence.

Courfeyrac's stomach dropped. 

Was this Marius's way of asking you to homecoming? 

"Yeah, Jehan said the coaches son asked him to go with him to piss his dad off." 

Why are you so nervous, Courfeyrac? Pull yourself together, man!

If anyone saw the way Courfeyrac had swooned when Marius chuckled, he would've died. "Who are you going with?" Marius looked like he was struggle to keep nonchanlant.

"Me?" Courfeyrac asked. "I haven't asked or been asked yet." He shrugged. 

"Oh, well I was wondering-"

Here it comes!

"If you aren't busy-"

It's really happening! He's going to ask!

"Could you maybe help me ask Cosette?" Courfeyrac just stared at him, stunned, heart broken, absolutely destroyed inside. He felt so stupid, why would Marius ever ask him? Did he really think he could compete with Cosette? 

"Cosette?" Marius gave him an enthusiastic nod. "If that's really what you want." Courfeyrac sighed.

"So how do I start?" Marius scooted closer to him, his hand accidently brushing against Courfeyrac's briefly.

"Just go up to her, stay cool and be straight forward. If she says no, don't start crying, it's not worth it," Courfeyrac grumbled, unusually cold. 

"Of course it's worth it, Courfeyrac! Cosette and I are meant to be!" 

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "Whatever." 

"Courfeyrac? Are you okay?" Marius' brow wrinkled in concern.

What do you think, Pontmercy? Could you possibly be more thick? I'm crazy for you and you're nuts for someone else! And she's all you ever talk about! I can't take this anymore! 

"Yeah, I'm fine." He forced a weak smile. "I saw Cosette by the fountain earlier with Grantaire, I'm sure you can catch her there."

"You're the best, and I promise, we'll find someone for you too!" 

Little did Marius know, Courfeyrac had already found someone.

 

\---

 

"Come on, Enjolras!" Cosette whined. "For me?" 

Enjolras' mind was made: there was absolutely no way he was going to Cosette's audition after school. Sure, supporting his sister's theatrical endeavors was all nice and brotherly, but Grantaire was going to be there. They hadn't even spoken for two weeks, even though he seemed to always be over. Exchanging glares as he followed Cosette up the stairs was the extent of their socialization for the past two weeks. In fact, as soon as he came outside and started chatting with his sister, Grantaire fled the scene. 

"I already told you! The answer is no!" Enjolras exasperatedly explained for the millionth time. "You've got Grantaire and Courfeyrac there for moral support, you don't need me there too."

"Hey, who came to all your debates last year? Who made the pins for your presidential campaign last year? Who picked out your outfit this morning?" Cosette put her hands on her hips. 

"You did," Enjolras sighed.

"That's what I thought. And now you've got a state title for debate, student body president, and offical-fashionista on your college application!" Cosette stuck her tongue out at Enjolras who pushed it back in with his index finger. 

"Seriously, Enjolras, I've always been there for you!" Cosette begged

"Alright, alright! But don't expect any applause from me," he groaned.

"You're gonna clap for me and you know it!" Cosette gave his arm a swat.

"I know." Cosette was going to be the death of him, that was clear. 

The bell rang and Cosette hopped off the smooth marble bench hugging the pool of the fountain. She kissed his cheek to say goodbye and was sure to remind him about auditions after school. Enjolras watched her skip off to the door. A figure nervously pacing near that door caught his eye. The sweater vest was a dead give away. 

Enjolras didn't like this Marius guy, not only was he far too timid, but he was stealing Courfeyrac! Honestly, Enjolras didn't like that Cosette had a crush in the kid, so he followed her to the door, just to insure nothing happened between them. 

"Cosette!" Enjolras called, jogging to her. 

"Yes?" She whirled around. 

"Let me walk you to your locker." Enjolras scooped up her books and hurried inside. Unfortunately, Cosette didn't adopt his pace, Enjolras waited for her on the inside. 

Cosette took her time, and just as Enjolras had feared, Marius jumped out in front of her. 

"Hi." Marius drummed his finger tips against each other. 

"Hello, Marius." Cosette smiled at him and tried to push past him, only to have him slip into her path. 

"I have something to talk to you about." Enjolras cringed at Marius getting in Cosette's escape route. 

"Okay?" Cosette quirked a blonde eyebrow at him. "What might that be?" 

Marius looked back at the door frame. Enjolras knew he was trying to look cool in front of Cosette, it seemed like his next move was going to be leaning up against the door frame. As the jittery boy backed up, Enjolras could tell he had been right. It all appeared to be going according to Pontmercy's little plan, until the miscalculation.

"Whoa!"

Thud 

Marius was on the floor. Enjolras almost felt bad for Marius, he was just trying to look a little chill, but instead he fell through the door frame. It seemed to have worked out for him when Cosette urgently knelt beside him.

"Marius!" She squeeked. "Are you okay?" With her trademark, gentle touch, Cosette guided him to a sitting postition. 

"I think so." Marius rubbed his head. 

Once she had confirmation that he was indeed okay, Cosette let out a little giggle. Enjolras hoped that she was laughing at him, but he knew Cosette wasn't that cruel. 

"Good." She ran her fingers through his dark, quaffed hair. "Now, what was it you were going to say?" 

Cosette was always kind, but she rarely gave Marius the time of day. Enjolras thought it safe to say he was just as stunned as Marius that she didn't leave him there in the floor.

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go to homecoming together." Marius asked hopefully.

The bright smile plastered on Cosette's face gave way to a frown. "Oh, Marius," she sighed.

"What?"

"That is a really nice offer, but I don't think going to homecoming together is a very good idea." Cosette stood up, not bothering to help Marius to his feet.

"Why not?" He carefully stood. 

"Marius, nothing can happen between us. I'm sorry." As much as Enjolras didn't like Marius, it was hard to see Cosette reject the boy she wanted so badly because she didn't think she was worthy.

"Maybe we could go as friends?" Marius became panicky. 

"I don't want to be friends, Marius." Cosette lied mournfully. 

"I don't want to be friends either!" he agreed. "I want to be more." 

"And I want to be less." Cosette snapped, suddenly cold. "I think it would be best if you just stopped talking to me." With that, she snuck past him, before he could see the tears in her eyes.

Enjolras watched Marius stand there, close to chasing after her, and even closer to tears. Even after Cosette snatched back her books, he just looked at him and saw a scared little boy who was overflowing with feelings, with desire he didn't quite understand himself and couldn't act on. It was almost like looking into a mirror. 

 

\---

 

For the last time, Eponine ran through her apology, it was more rehearsed than her actual audition. She feared it was too late, and Cosette would sneer at her attempts to take back her harsh words with a bouquet and a few simple sentences. But she had to try. 

You can do this, Eponine.

She knocked on the practice room door, knowing she would find Cosette there. 

"Come in!" Marius' Italian friend said from the other side of the door. 

One last silent prayer to a God she had no faith in, and she cracked open the door. "Hey," she said bashfully. There were three boys from the party there with her; the Italian, the icy blond, and the drunk who had called her Ebony. The latter two looked to have been arguing, but Eponine didn't her eithernof them shouting from outside, so the were probably just trading disaproving looks. Cosette was in the middle of the room practicing her monologue in a low murmur. 

"Did you want to practice? We can clear out if you do," Cosette offered. She looked radiant as ever with her golden her perfectly curled and her darling dress giving the illusion of prominant curves. A sticker with a thin 23 written in smeared, black sharpie was stuck to her chest. 

"No, I was actually wondering if we could talk." She hid the flowers behind her back. "Alone," she said to the boys in the room.

"Hey, we can take a hint!" Courfeyrac hopped off the card table he was sitting cross-legged on top of. "C'mon you two, let's give the girls some privacy!" Enjolras and Grantaire followed Courfeyrac out, neither daring to break their glares.

The door swung shut. Eponine and Cosette were alone, and the blonde looked nervous. She bumbled around gathering her sheet music off the stand and tucking her jazz shoes into a canvas tote. "Eponine, if you're here to misgender me, I really don't have the time. I'm hardly even warmed-"

"I came to apologize." Eponine closed her eyes tight and said deliberately. 

"Apologize?" Cosette's brow furrowed as she backed up on to the table. 

"Yeah." Eponine stared at her shuffling feet. "I was way out of line. I don't even know why I thought I had the right to talk shit like that," she admitted while Cosette stirred and climbed to her feet, slowly advancing towards Eponine with a hint of curiosity in her glistening, blue eyes. "I was being a bitch, and the fact that you didn't knock my block off then and there was pretty cool. You're of a woman than I'll ever be."

Eyes glued to the grimy tiles, Eponine thrusted the bouquet into Cosette's chest. 

"'Ponine!" she gasped at the gorgeous, blush pink roses with bunches of babies breath peaking out. Delicate butterflies, made out of glittery cardstock and pegged on dowels hovered above the flowers. Her hands cupped around the bouquet. 

"This is-" She paused to left Eponine's chin. "This is really beautiful."

"You're beautiful." Eponine's eyelashes fluttered shut as she flushed up to her ears. Though the pleasant smile Cosette held did reassured her. 

"And so are you." Eponine's face heated up even more when Cosette popped onto her tiptoes and her tender lips pressed against Eponine's forehead. "It takes a lot of courage to apologize, I really appreciate that you made yourself this vulnerable and asked for forgiveness- and this bouquet may be the loveliest I've ever seen!" She giggled. 

"So, do you forgive me?" Eponine asked hopefully. 

"Of course I do! Your apology was sincere, and that's all I can ask. Well, that and for you to never say anything like that again."

"Believe me, it's not gonna happen again," she insisted.

For a scerene moment, the two just shared happy sighs and wide grins. Eponine had to resist the urge to wrap her arms about her and just kiss her! 

"I should really go; auditions are starting." Cosette's smile weakened and she started to the door, sheet music in hand.

"Right." She watched Cosette longingly for a moment as her courage mounted. "Wait!" Eponine reached out for her.

She spun back around to face Eponine, whose heart was reaching at speds off-the-charts. Why she couldn't just talk to Cosette puzzled her. Just two short weeks ago, she had been brave enough (or rude enough) to blatantly insult her, but now- now her tongue was tied.

"I don't have a lot of girlfriends- that is, girls who I am friends with, not like the whole lesbian deal," she began, sweat gathering along her hairline. "So I thought maybe we could be friends, seeing that you don't have a lot girlfriends- again girls who are friends, friends who are girls- I thought we could maybe go shopping for homecoming dresses like together?" 

Eponine closed her eyes, anticipating the harshest rejection of her life. 

"Yeah! Sure! Of course!" Cosette pushed the door open. "That sounds like fun, 'Ponine! Are you free after auditions?" 

Eponine didn't even think through her plans for after auditions, she couldn't resist the way Cosette's chirp sounded when saying 'Ponine. If she had plans, they were cancelled now. 

"Yeah, I'll meet you back her. I'll drive." Eponine flashed Cosette her driver's liscene before she trotted off to the waiting area.


	10. Chapter 10

Cosette took a deep breath and scrutinized her reflection in the dressing room mirror. The dress it self was lovely; deep, navy blue gauze that cut off above the knee, with a blend of silver beads and glistening sequins trimming the empire waistline and finished with an asymmetrical bow. The lack of straps had Cosette fidgeting and tugging it up over her nearly flat chest. It was thankfully padded enough to allude to the full bust her hormones were failing to supply her. She could hear Eponine getting impatient outside the dressing room.

"Cosette?" Eponine's raspy voice had a concerned tone. "You alright in there?"

"Yes," Cosette didn't sound like herself, she was so frantic, her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I'm fine."

The lie stung her tongue. She was most certainly not fine. Though she was confident that Eponine wasn't going to say anything harsh or trans phobic, the prospect of Eponine seeing Cosette in a dress scared the dickens out of her. 

Years ago, when Cosette had still been sweeping the floors of the Thenardier's, Eponine had seen Cosette in a dress. Or rather caught her in one. 

On a particularly dull day, Cosette had been scrub blood off the tiles of a grimy bathroom. The bottom of the shower curtain had been splattered with dried blood that stretched in thin, speckled streaks stretching all the way to the silver rings. Madame Thenairder was out today, parading her daughters around and blowing the small fortune that would be completely wiped out in a matter of years. That left her alone in the hotel with Monsieur Thenairder, who dispite never living in France like his wife, went by Monsieur. 

He was a slimy man who had never been kind to Cosette but he was a different mean than his wife had been. She used her cruel words and occasionally tugged Cosette along by her blonde mop of hair, but rarely did she hit her. Monsieur, on the other hand, was quiet, lurking in the shadows, ready to beat Cosette as soon as she stepped a toe out of line. As long as Cosette kept busy with chores and steered clear of him, she was fine. 

After she had managed to wash away the blood from the floor, Cosette thought she deserved a break. She took advantage of the fact that she was almost alone, and wandered through the halls, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of monsieur Thenairder. 

Cosette scooped up a bag of Doritos that Eponine had left on the ground outside her door. With a sigh, Cosette picked up the empty bag. She knew of a garbage can in the corner of Eponine's room, and even though Madame Thenairder had told specifically not to go into anyone's bedroom, Cosette couldn't resist the convenice.   
She tiptoed into the room through the door that had been left open just a crack. Ignoringbthe fact that Eponine's room was completely trashed and Cosette would have to clean it up later, she hurried to the garbage can.

But on her way, something had caught her eye, something nothing short of wonderful. It was a simple pink dress with embossed flowers swirling over the boddess. Cosette thought Eponine had ought to be ashamed of herself for letting that gorgeous dress lay on the ground and wrinkle! There was no way Cosette could just leave it there! 

She dutifully cradled the precious fabric in her twiggy arms, but she couldn't hang it up. Something that spectacular should be worn, not collecting dust in a closet. So, Cosette stripped her tattered, lackluster rags and slipped the dress on. As soon as she managed to zip it the back, something shifted in Cosette. Something had been changed forever. She couldn't take her eyes off the mirror; she had never felt beautiful, and now, it seemed like she would never not as long as she could be in that dress. 

"Mommy! Eugene's got my dress on!" Eponine had shrieked. 

Cosette's heart sank. After one last, longingful glance in the mirror, Cosette squinted her eyes shut, praying that she, or Eponine would disappear. Maybe she would open her eyes and be someone else, far, far away. But when her eyes had opened, Eponine had been joined by her wicked mother and younger sister. 

"What do we have here?" Madame Thenairder sneered. 

"The freak is ruining my best dress, mommy!" Eponine whined as her chubby little finger accused Cosette. 

"look like we've got another girl in the house, mommy," Azelma said vacantly.

"Oh, no Azelma!" She snickered. "She is not just another girl! Our little Euphrasie is a princess! Aren't you, sweetheart?" 

Cosette wasn't sure how could people could laugh at someone as they cry. Nothing about this situation seemed funny to Cosette. How could someone take joy in someone's suffering?

Of course, Cosette knew that Eponine wasn't that cruel anymore and she would never intentionally tease her like that. Still, the memories were too vivid to ignore.

"Do you need a different size?" Eponine worried.

This was getting ridiculous! After all Cosette has been through, after every name someone slapped her with, after she had come out of the closet, and she couldn't find the courage to walk out that fitting room? This was her body and she was proud of it! Who cares what anyone else thinks, she was a woman, a woman who had spent her whole life fighting for that title. 

Cosette tore through the door with such force, all eyes darted to her. The unwanted attention made her uncomfortable at first, but then she noticed that everyone was gaping not because they were shocked to see someone like her in a dress, but because she looked ravishing. No one dared look away as she twirled for Eponine with a bright smile on her glowing face.

"Cosette!" Eponine gasped. 

"What's you think?" She asked.

"You look-" Eponine was unable to even find the words. "Nice." 

And nice was all Cosette needed. 

 

\---

 

Homework was one of Enjolras' favorite things. He loved to feel productive even if he knew it was just meaningless class work that could never determine his true value to society. But lately, he had been distracted with two very pressing matters that didn't have to do with equality; Marius stealing Courfeyrac, and Grantaire being Grantaire. He needed Combeferre to keep him on task more than ever.

Whenever Enjolras' mind began to wander, or he was caught doodling in the margin, Combeferre would steer him back to being on task. He would ask Enjolras to explain what he did for an problem, even if Combeferre already knew exactly how to do it, or he would ask him to borrow his notes. Anything to bring him back to reality. 

That day, Enjolras was particularly distracted. Courfeyrac had said at lunch that he and Marius were free to join him once auditions were over. Enjolras left auditions before Courfeyrac to avoid having to make conversation. For some reason, he didn't want to spend anither minute listening to Courfeyrac wax about Marius and how he doesn't quite have abs, but he's still flat and attractive. 

"You seem tense, well more than usual," Combeferre noted.

"I'm honestly dreading this." Enjolras sighed and closed his math book, marking his please with that day's assignment. "I really don't like Marius. I don't care what Cosette says, he's ruining everything." Enjolras nestled against Combeferre with a pout. 

"I know this isn't ideal, but Cosette could really have picked someone worse to have a crush on." Combeferre reminded him as he slid the text book aside and wrapped his arms around Enjolras. "He's a good kid."

"I know," Enjolras moaned.

All the sudden, the door was shoved open. "Hey, hey, hey!" Courfeyrac cheered. Enjolras swiftly escaped from Combeferre's arms so Courfeyrac didn't get any ideas. It was just Courfeyrac's way to turn something innocent and platonic and give it a sexual spin. Normally, Enjolras would just brush it off with a good-natured eye-roll, but today, he wasn't in the mood for Courfeyrac's antics. 

"Whoa-hoa-hoa!" Courfeyrac chuckled. "Look whose getting cozy!" 

"I was-" Enjolras began, his face red with fury.

"Save your excuses, sweet heart!" Courfeyrac tugged Marius down and they sat crossed legged in front of Enjolras and Combeferre. "I know what I saw." 

Enjolras moved on from Courfeyrac and let his glare victimized Marius. No matter how Enjolras looked at him, Marius wouldn't confront him. The boy had no back bone. That, if he had to choose was his least favorite thing about Marius. Enjolras admired people who weren't afraid to fight back, people who challenged him, people who were brave, not just some ditz who was scared of a little glare. 

Though Courfeyrac and Marius were in the same math class -Marius was unbelievably advanced and was in advanced classes for a senior- Enjolras and Combeferre were a year ahead, so their assignments looked a little different. It wasn't a big deal since it was mostly just companionable silence as opposed to group tutoring. Occasionally someone would ask to borrow an eraser, or if their math buddy had finished an especially difficult equation, or Enjolras would mutter something about Marius being an agent of the patriarchy. But there wasn't much talking until they heard Cosette come home. 

By the way Cosette was laughing, they could all tell she wasn't alone. "Papa, I'm home!" She chirped. Footsteps rumbled up the stairs just before Cosette rapped her knuckles against Enjolras' door. 

"Enjolras!" Cosette called. "I got a dress for homecoming! Wanna see?"

"Cosette, I'm kinda busy-" 

"Too late!" Cosette interupted by budging the door open. She was accompanied by Eponine- Enjolras was okay with that as long as she had apologized- and Grantaire, who Enjolras would never be okay with. "Wow! You've got more friends over, than I do!" Cosette beamed at everyone at first, but when she noticed Maius, her smile faltered. That was another rreason why Enjolras didn't like Marius; Cosette stopped smiling when he was there. 

"Cosette, please, if you're going to allow someone like him into our house, at least don't bring him in my room!" Enjolras growled.

"Enjolras!" Combeferre snapped. "Grantaire's a person!" Enjolras folded his arms across his chest. 

"Hardly," he murmured just loud enough for Grantaire to hear. 

"Alright, that's it!" Grantaire grumbled, rolling up his sleeves to prepare for a fight. Though he walked toward Enjolras menacingly, he seemed to have suddenly changed his mind about exposing his forearms and yanked the cuffs back over his wrists. 

Enjolras was on his feet, not about to back down from Grantaire. Everyone could sense a fight about to break out, but no one dare stop it. 

"I'm so sick and tired of your pretentious, self-righteous bullshit! Like what gives you the right to stomp around on your high horse and pretend you're so enlightened? Do you really think calling me scum is contributing to your shitty, idealistic cause? No, Enjolras, all you're doing is being a complete ass! You're not better than-"

Suddenly, Enjolras lunged forward and tackled him to the ground. That triggered everyone to panick. Marius left the scene to hide in the bathroom, Combeferre worked on prying Enjolras off Grantaire, Cosette was sobbing and yelling at both of them, Courfeyrac was trying to stop the fight too, and Eponine just gaped at the display. Grantaire punched Enjolras in the eye and Enjolras repaid him by burying his nails into his back. Enjolras gave Grantaire a black eye to match his own, and Grantaire kicked his shin.

Combeferre finally managed to take Enjolras and restrain him as he kicked and screamed at Grantaire. Courfeyrac grabbed Grantaire and took him outside so he could cool off. 

"I'm gonna kill him!" Enjolras struggled. "Let me go, Combeferre!"

"Enjolras, that was not okay." Combeferre wrestled Enjolras onto the bed and pinned him against the mattress. 

"He started it!"

"How? By being here? Honestly, Enjolras, you two are fighting way too much and now it's gotten physical? You need to apologize." 

"Later." Enjolras escaped and ran out the door, down the stairs. Cosette chased after him.

"Enjolras! Don't you dare touch Grantaire!" She squealed. 

"Dad!" Enjolras rounded the corner to the kitchen where his father was working on a crossword, slipping slightly on the wood. 

"Enjolras? What happened to your eye?" Valjean lowered his glasses to get a better look. 

"Grantaire! That's what happened! We got in a fight, and you know why?" 

"Enjolras, please-" 

"Because he's rude, and obnoxious, and an alcoholic druggie with absolutely no direction or purpose!" 

The three fell silent. Enjolras was panting, Cosette was bawling, and Valjean was just stunned. "Cosette?" He asked hoarsely. "Is this true? Is Grantaire drinking underaged and doing drugs?" Enjolras could tell that Valjean didn't want it to be true, he didn't want Enjolras to be right about this. 

The poor girl couldn't speak, she just cried harder and nodded. 

"Alright then." Valjean cleared his throat. "Enjolras, you are to apologize to Grantaire before he leaves. Cosette, I don't want you hanging out with him anymore. Go say goodbye." 

The look Cosette gave Enjolras was absolutely mortifying. People said Enjolras was intimidating, but when Cosette was angry, nothing compared to her glare. Enjolras hated himself for hurting Cosette like that, though he knew this was for the best. One day when Grantaire got lung cancer or winded up dead from crashing into a tree while driving drunk, Cosette would thank him for keeping her away from him. Besides, she shouldn't have cared about him so much; to Enjolras, Grantaire was nothing. 

 

\---

 

"Marius?" Courfeyrac knocked on the bathroom door. "You can come out now, they're done fighting!"

There was no answer.

"Marius?" Courfeyrac heard something that sounded like a phone call ending followed by the sink beginning to run. "Are you okay in there?" He waited for him to respond.

There was no answer.

"Marius, I'm coming in." Courfeyrac pushed open the door to find Marius staring at himself in the mirror. He looked like he had just splashed sink water on his face, but Courfeyrac knew he wasn't crying, though he was clearly upset. Courfeyrac couldn't tell if he was sad, or angry until he swat at the water leaking from the fachuet.

"You okay there, champ?" Courfeyrac wondered.

"My grandfather found me."

Courfeyrac felt an involuntary pang in his chest; he didn't want Marius to leave. Even if they'd only been living together for a little while, they were having so much fun together! He didn't want his Grandfather swooping in and ruining it. 

"You have to go back, don't you?" Courfeyrac joined him in gazing into the mirror with a sad smile. Marius shook his head and explained that his grandfather didn't want him to come home until he 'got his head straight' and he meant that literally because he was beginning to think Marius might have been 'led astray by the homosexuals' as he said it. 

"Courf, I don't want to go back." Marius set his head in the crook of Courfeyrac's neck and let out a sigh (which was no simple task considering that Courfeyrac was much shorter than him) 

Courfeyrac could've stayed like that forever; just them, Marius so close that his intoxicating scent overwhelmed him. So close he could hear Marius breath, his heart pound, his soul relax. 

"I don't want you to go back either," Courfeyrac confessed. "You're my bro." He kissed Marius temple so lightly, he was afraid Marius might not have felt it. The blush spreading across his face gave Marius away. 

"Is that what bros do?" Marius teased. 

"If they've got a bromance." Marius giggled at that. "Hey, since we're bromantic-partners, do you maybe want to go to homecoming with me?" There was a beat. "As friends, because neither of us have dates."

Marius slowly took Courfeyrac's hand. "That sounds awesome- bro." 

 

\---

 

Grantaire sat outside Enjolras and Cosette's house all alone against the garage, trying to dull the physical pain and the emotional blow that was threatening to destroy him with a bottle like usual. Sometimes Grantaire felt a freshly emptied bottle was his only friend.

He always deserved Enjolras' abuse, that was apparent to him. All he did was get on Enjolras' nerves and flirt with him excessively. He wasn't worthy of Enjolras' friendship, let alone his love. This crush was an issue. Grantaire wanted Enjolras so bad, but he kept screwing it up with his cynicism and satyr. He couldn't expect Enjolras to look at Grantaire any differently.

"Hey," a beautifully familiar voice said in a tone Grantaire was not used to hearing that voice in; bashful. 

"Hey yourself," Grantaire griped at Enjolras. 

"Please Grantaire, I don't want to fight you. We're supposed to be friends." He knelt down in front of him.

"Yeah, I know!" Grantaire shot, then recoiled. "But we're not."

Enjolras sighed and handed Grantaire an ice pack for his swelling eye. "You're right- about everything. I've been an arrogant jerk to you, and I don't want that." Grantaire was little too quiet. "Look, we don't have to be friends, but the relationship we have is shitty."

"You cussed for me, what a hallmark moment." Grantaire scooted away, knowing that Enjolras' dad put him up to this. There was no way he could mean any of this. 

"You just pushed me over the edge today. I don't know why you bring this side if me out-" 

Because I'm a worthless creep who earns every punch, every insult, every glare, every fight and for some reason, can't change. I can't make you love me, so I make you hate me. Then maybe you give me some of your time, even if it's just to tear me down, at least I can watch you soar while I break there on the floor.

"But I'm working on it." Enjolras continued. "I don't understand the way you make me feel, and that frustrates me more then I can take. It's something I need to work out myself. I promise I'm trying." 

Grantaire was puzzled; he made Enjolras feeling things he didn't understand? Clearly Enjolras has never hated a person before. 

"Can you forgive me?" Enjolras asked cautiously and for some reason, Grantaire felt as though he might be sincere. 

"If I do, do we get to kiss and make up?" Grantaire smirked. Enjolras fought the smile- he really did- but it crept on his angelic face as he rolled his eyes at him. 

"How about we shake hands instead?" 

"Fine!" Grantaire sighed. They stood up and whole hands. "Now, can I come back inside?"

"Um, no. Sorry." Enjolras couldn't even hold eye-contact with Grantaire, he was feeling guilty and wishing he had waited until he could think rationally before telling his dad Grantaire's secret. Grantaire saw Cosette creeping behind Enjolras with red-rimmed eyes. 

"Why not?" Grantaire quirked an eyebrow. 

"Because he told dad that you're a drunk stoner." Cosette had a tone that Grantaire had never heard her use. She was not being kind or gentle, she was venomous, aiming to wound.

"That's not what I said, Co-" he began, condescendingly. 

"You what?" Grantaire was devastated. There was no way Valjean was ever going to let him see Cosette again. There friendship was over, and Enjolras was to blame.

"Grantaire, I was mad, okay? I didn't think it through." Enjolras got very passionate, cupping Grantaire's scruffy face even to get his point across, but Grantaire's expression was vacant and his mind was elsewhere. "Please, Grantaire, I'm sorry! If I could take it back-"

"No." His eyes came back into focus and locked with Enjolras'. "I get it. I should've known my place. A got-for-nothing drunk like me shouldn't be hanging out with an one above me anyways." Grantaire wrestled his way out of Enjolras' hands. 

"Grantaire!" Enjolras called as Grantaire fled. "Please!" 

But Grantaire didn't listen, he had already made up his mind, and the cynics mind is not easily changed. No matter how loudly he called, Grantaire couldn't hear because he refused to listen to Enjolras anymore. He was done. But deep down he knew, as soon as he saw that smile again, he wouldn't be able to resist crawling back.


	11. Chapter 11

For the research Enjolras had [gathered/conducted] about homecoming when he was a freshman, Cosette had learned one important thing: Homecoming is casual. It's not prom. You don't need to go with anyone specific, there are no limos, and you don't need to get to stressed out. Cosette was thankful that Enjolras was such a nerd, over the years, he had handed down bursting files of his research to her. They've helped her greatly when curiosity struck. Enjolras thought maybe thus batch of research would be a peace offering.

She was still bitter to Enjolras for getting Grantaire banned from the house, but she made it her mission to spend as much time with Grantaire in front of Enjolras as humanly possibly. The satisfaction Cosette got from this form of revenge was her guilty pleasure. Of course, she wasn't rude to Enjolras. He was her brother! She can't stay mad at him!

That night was homecoming. The night she had studied longer for than her quiz earlier in math. Eponine would be at her house to pick her up any minute and she still couldn't move from the mirror she sat in front of. Dysphoria had hit her hard that day, walking out of the house in a dress with any confidence was going to be a struggle. 

Mirrors were haunted with the ghost of the little boy she had once been. He was still in her bones, and sometimes when she listened carefully, she could hear his voice underscoring her own. From time to time, she felt as though she had killed him, like she built herself on his corpse. 

"I killed him," she whispered. "Me." Why couldn't she have found away for them to both be there tonight? 

Dysphoria was more than extreme emotional exhaustion and self loathing for Cosette, it was guilt. Guilt that she hated him, even when she knew that would destroy him, because he was beginning to realize that he and everyone around him hated him too. Guilt that she got him sweaters instead if help. She was sorry that he would never get to dance at his wedding, or feel his baby gripping his thumb with their whole hand. Her blockers, her hormones had destroyed their shared dream of having children. 

She had to burn every picture of him and she still couldn't replace all the empty pockets of the photo album like she promised her father because she couldn't always bring herself to capture her image. After all, she still had his glistening, blue eyes. 

She knew she shouldn't feel this way, she shouldn't mourn the lose of the body she hated. There should be no shame in her changing herself before that boy took them both out. Besides, since her hormones had started to kick in, the dysphoria was less intense, episodes less frequent, and her confidence was blossoming. Tonight could be the night she fills those last spots in the photo album.

Cosette took a deep, cleansing breath and made her way down stairs. Valjean was laughing at something witty Enjolras said when he saw her. Her father's laughing stopped, Enjolras tried to look uninterested in Cosette's appearance, but a smile filled his face instead. 

"Cosette," Valjean gasped. "You look absolutely ravishing. It could use a few more inches; it's awfully short for a young-"

"Dad." Enjolras took the tone he used to warn someone that what they are saying would trigger a rant if continued. It disappointed Cosette that Valjean stopped, she would have loved to hear Enjolras go on about feminism. 

"Thank you, papa." A compliment is less about what someone says, and more about how it makes you feel. It's a confidence boost that can only be taken by it's reverse.

The siblings wouldn't be going to Homecoming together, Enjolras was being dragged there by Combeferre for their last Homecoming while Cosette and Eponine were going stag together. Still, Valjean insisted the coordinate for pictures. When Cosette picked out a navy blue dress instead of a red one, their father's vision of matching children went down the toilet. 

"So." Valjean clapped his hands together. "How about we take a few pictures before your friends get her?" Enjolras groaned as Valjean struggled to reach his ancient, Polaroid camera from the top self of the closet. He bounced onto his tip toes and strained his arm to reach it. A man his height should easily be able to reach the shelf, a man of his age should not. Thankfully he was in top, physical condition because neither of his peculiarly small teenagers could ever hope to be able to grab anything that high. 

"Dad, that camera doesn't even work half the time!" Enjolras complained.

"Oh hush!" Valjean's shoulders rose as he put the camera to his eye. "Get close!" He waved Enjolras towards Cosette from behind the Polaroid. 

Enjolras, with no shortage of grumbling, faked an awarding-winning smile and squeezed next to Cosette. The camera flashed once and a copy of their image slid out. 

"Ooh! That's a keeper!" Valjean examined the still setting picture with pride welling in his eyes. It made Cosette said to think that in four short years, she'd be leaving him all alone in this big house. Maybe, by then, Enjolras would accidently get someone pregnant and Valjean could have grandkids. Although that was highly unlikely considering Enjolras' age and sexuality, it was a comforting thought for Cosette. 

Enjolras stood still long enough for their father to snap a few more pictures before Combeferre rang the door bell. It was a sort of game to Cosette to beat Enjolras to the door when his guests arrived, a game Enjolras pretended to be annoyed by. She rushed to the door and greeted Combeferre.

"'Ferre!" Cosette gave him an enthusiastic hug. "You look very handsome!" She admired his basic black suit with plain ivory vest and subtle bow tie that blended right in that made for a classy combination.

He blushed and repaid her with a kind remark on her glittery dress. "Enjolras texted me that you were wearing blue and he was wearing red. I thought it was only fitting that I'd wear white."

"We're America!" Cosette beamed.

"France." Enjolras corrected, walking up behind her. "Ready to go?"

Before Combeferre could nod, Valjean interrupted. "Eh hem! Pictures!"

"Right!" Enjolras pulled Combeferre into a pose with him and Cosette. "Wouldn't want to miss this photo-op." Another round of pictures was captured, then Eponine knocked. 

"That's for me!" Cosette bounded to the door, pulled it open and her jaw dropped at Eponine. "Your hair!" she gasped

Eponine's dress was lackluster, plain, dark green that cut straight across at the neck. The skirt was layered tull that almost looked tattered. But her hair must have took hairs to orchestrate. It was a feat of intricate braids twisting around her head, sliver clips and half a can of hairspray. 

"How'd you do that?" Eponine's face flushed with heat as Cosette's hand traced the braids, briefly brushing against her cheek. 

"It was nothing. Just had some time when I should be studying." 

Valjean gathered them up for one last photography session. "Perfect! That'll do, kids. On your way." He gave Enjolras a quick hug- which he was clearly uncomfortable with- and Cosette pecked his cheek before they waved goodbye from the two cars. 

 

\---

 

Courfeyrac had high hopes for that night. Priority number one was- like always- Marius' happiness. If Marius wasn't having the time of his life, the night would be a failure in Courfeyrac's thoughtful view. But if he had three wishes for that night, they'd be spent on that, a slow dance, and a kiss. Both from Marius. 

These goals were well in reach in his mind, then again, in his mind he and Marius had done much more than share a quick kiss after a slow dance. Unfortunately, all he had accomplished that night was sitting with Marius at a table with a cheap, purple table cloth. At least Marius wasn't crying. 

"You should have seen the look on my Grandmother's face when I came out in this! She hasn't looked so shocked since she died three years ago!" Jehan enthused in his soft voice, stroking the light purple tull of his dress. His date, the coach's son, couldn't have looked more pleased with Jehan's tendancy to break the binary. 

"I can't wait to show my dad how great you look." Jehan's date was the classic 'bromosexual'. To the untrained eye, he appeared as any other straight jock, but when he was with Jehan, and he got all dopey and starry-eyed, you could easily believe his sexuality. 

"I'm flattered. My superficial side thanks you." Jehan pressed his lips against the boys face.

Courfeyrac and Marius had listened to them talk for nearly half an hour. Courfeyrac was contributing to the conversation, but Marius just listened. 

"So, are you two an item yet?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Believe me, I've tried!" The football player joked. "Apparently he's holding out for Beyoncè." Courfeyrac laughed at that, knowing that it was completely true. Though Jehan had never shown a trace of interest in women, he had a strange fascination with Beyonè, and he'd settle for nothing less than her excellence. 

"But anyway," Jehan's date began. "How long have you two been dating?" 

It hurt a little that Marius choked on his punch at the question, but Courfeyrac did his best to explain their relationship. "We're just friends."

"Bros." Marius added with a blushing grin. Jehan looked like he was going to say something, but his voice was lost when Cosette glided over to Courfeyrac.

"Courf!" She flung her arms around him. "Congradulations! You're going to be an awesome Prince Eric!" 

That's right. Courfeyrac was cast as the lead in the musical. It was no surprise, they were short on boys and even shorter on seniors. Courfeyrac was a shoo in. The casting for Ariel was a little controversial. Cosette earned the role, to every female upperclassmen's dismay. Courfeyrac had to admit she was very talented and had the perfect voice for the role. 

"Thanks, Cosette! I'm so excited to perform with you," Courfeyrac said. 

Marius looked something like a wounded fawn the way he looked at Cosette in her flowy dress, giving her attention to Cosette. It made Courfeyrac worry about how Marius might look when Cosette and Courfeyrac had to kiss every performance. Not to mention countless rehearsals. 

"Well, I'm going to try to get Enjolras on the dance floor. Wish me luck!" Cosette bounced away.

Marius stayed very quiet for a while, just sipping on his punch. Courfeyrac could tell he'd rather be with Cosette. That broke his heart. He might not be Cosette, but he was going try to make him happy if it killed him. 

"Hey now," Courfeyrac set his hand gently on Marius' shoulder. "This is a dance, isn't it?" Marius nodded uncertainly. "Then we need to get you dancing!"

 

\---

 

"Oh, c'mon! Lighten up! It was funny and you know it!" Grantaire laughed walkingboutbof the bathroom. Enjolras trudged out the bathroom behind him with his face completely red with a mixture of rage and embarrasment. 

"That was not funny! You can't just scare someone half to death while they're peeing!" Grantaire had trailed after Enjolras into the bathroom steathily. When Enjolras was settled at a urinal, Grantaire flicked off the lights. That was enough to make Enjolras gasp, but when Grantaire started bang the stall doors open and closed, Enjolras nearly squealed. 

"Consider it pay back for getting me banned from your house."

"I said I was sorry!" Enjolras reminded him desperately. 

"Whatever." Grantaire and Enjolras walked over to the punch bowl, naturally staying together. "What happened to you hating dances? Thought you refused to go to these things." He scooped up a ladel full of sugary juice into his plastic cup. 

"Generally, yes." Enjolras had a wonderful voice. Not only was it smooth, but it was so passionate Grantaire couldn't resist listening. He didn't believe in much, but he couldn't help but believe that if someone could change the world, it would be Enjolras. After all, he had changed Grantaire, even if he didn't see any difference. 

"What made you come?" 

"Combeferre wanted me to go since it's our last one."

"Is it as dull and heteronormitive as you thought?" Grantaire smirked.

"More so." 

Silence fell between them, only the white noise of some Top 40 hit to be heard. When they weren't arguing over politics or silly, everyday stuff, both of them sincerly thought they could be friends. And they could. Sure it take some effort, but just the amount of energy they waste fighting. There was quite a lot of potential there. 

Grantaire slurped some of his punch, but spit it back out before swallowing. "Jesus, that tastes like piss!" He wiped away the liquid that clung to his upper lip dramatically with the back of his hand. "Try it!" Grantaire thrusted the cup toward Enjolras with his nose crinkled.

"No thanks." He batted the cup away, wondering why Grantaire would offer him a drink he claimed tasted like piss and spat into. 

"To hell with that!" He dumped it into the garbage can. "No one should have to drink that." Grantaire pulled out the solution from the inside of his jacket: a flask. 

"Grantaire," Enjolras warned. 

"What? I'm just improving the recipe!" He un-twist the round cap. "And isn't improvement always the goal, princess?"

"Don't call me that." Enjolras tried to snatch the flask.

"Golden buns?" Grantaire's arm shot up to hold it out of reach.

"Not that either." He jumped for it, but Grantaire was taller and his arms longer. Enjras wasn't about to let teenagers unknowingly consume alcohol, that mixed with driving home could only be dangerous. 

"Apollo?" Grantaire sneered, putting his free hand on Enjolras chest to keep him back.

"Definitely not that." Grantaire kept Enjolras away long enough to empty the flask into the bowl. 

"Enjolras it is." Grantaire smirked, tossing Enjolras the empty flask.

"Grantaire!" He chased Grantaire with his fist quivering at the mischevious boy, prepared to give him the scolding of a lifetime. 

 

\---

 

For Marius and Courfeyrac, it was all fun and games until the songs changed from upbeat to slow, love ballads. Though Courfeyrac had wanted to hold Marius close and sway under the twinkling lights strung across the ceiling, he felt like the change of pace was scary for Marius.

"You wanna dance?" Coufeyrac proposed, trying to fake the confidence that usually comes so naturally to him. 

He didn't answer right away. He looked at his polished dress shoes with red cheeks. Courfeyrac couldn't help but gawk at how lovely Marius was with his dark hair and tan skin. His black suit with navy tie made him look even more dashing. It fit him just right, excentuating his delicate figure and hugging in all the right places.

"Sure," Marius said nervously. The taller of the two boys, Marius, awkwardly took the lead. "I should tell you I don't really know how to dance." 

"That's okay." It didn't matter to Courfeyrac, as long as Marius kept his hands on his waist, he couldn't be happier. The feeling of his hesitant hands touching Courfeyrac of with that level of intimacy gave him butterflies. 

Ever so cautiously, Marius began to move to the music and Courfeyrac followed him with admiration burning in his eyes. Courfeyrac got closer and closer until their bodies were pressed against each other. Marius' head bowed into the crook of Courfeyrac's neck. His face was hot against the exposed skin, but he quickly snapped it off him. 

"Courfeyrac, people are staring." Courfeyrac could feel Marius tensing up. 

"Let them! Why should we let them r-" All the sudden Marius had seperated himself from Courfeyrac's embrace. "What're you doing?" Courfeyrac's voice cracked under the emotional blow. 

"I just got embarrassed."

"Embarrassed of your best friend?" Courfeyrac's heart was racing. He wasn't sure if he wanted to punch someone or cry into his pillow. 

"No!" Marius frantically insisted. "It's nothing, I swear. You don't embarrass me! C'Mon the song's not over." Marius tried to put his hands on his waist the way he liked, but it just felt wrong to Courfeyrac. He was upset that Marius had stopped, but he was even more upset that he tried to start again. Did he want to break his heart twice?

"No, I don't feel like dancing with you anymore!" Courfeyrac pushed him away. He was absolutely humiliated! Tears gathering in his eyes, he ran from the dance floor to find a way to not exist for a while. 

"Courfeyrac! Wait!" Marius called after him, with desperation in his trembling voice and in his sprinting feet.

 

\---

 

"He called me like eight times, trying to convince me to let him drive me here." Cosette listened to Musichetta as she went on about something totally sweet Joly did early well her boyfriend rocked out with Bossuet on the dance floor. "And I said no because there was no way his chair was wheelchair friendly, right? Wrong! He bought a van! Not rented, bought!"

"That's so thoughtful of him!" Cosette gushed.

"I know right? And that's not even the best part! It's got 'N Sync spray painted on the side! It's hella rad!" She went on about how much Joly has improved just since that last Friday while Cosette's focus dipped in and out. 

Earlier, she saw Marius and Courfeyrac dancing, but now Marius was alone at a table in the corner, surrounded by empty chairs. Part of her wanted to go comfort him, but part if her really had to pee, and that part if her was a little more urgent.

"I'll be right back, I've got to go to the lady's room." Musichetta didn't seem to hear her, and went on babbling even after Cosette had left.

The bathroom doors both had streamers Scotch taped to them. Pink and blue to, you know, reinforce this gender binary thing society was trying to shove down everyone's throats. Cosette picked the one with the pink, drooping streams of thin paper, feeling sorry for those who didn't belong in either bathroom. 

An empty bathroom always gave Cosette peace [of/at] mind. It meant there was no snobby cis girl wondering why she peed standing up. To her dismay, one stall was occupied already. If she hurried along, maybe the girl in the center stall wouldn't see anything. 

She opened the cool stall door and then paused. There was vomit. She could smell it. Someone was throwing up their food, and Cosette was determined to help. To insure that someone was in fact up-chucking, Cosette flushed her toilet, ran the water and shut the door, all in efforts to make the girl think she was alone. Sure enough, Cosette heard the poor girl's barfing resume. 

She walked over to the stall, overlooking one detail; her heels clicking against the tile. 

"Whose in here?" A terrifyingly familiar voice cried. 

It was Eponine.

"Eponine?" Cosette wondered, leaning against the stall.

"Hey! I asked you first!" 

"It's me, Cosette," she said. "Can you open the door?"

"No!" Eponine pouted. "I'm never coming out of here!" 

"Well, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong and you feel better." Cosette hopped up and took a seat on the sink. "So, what brings you here?"

"I ate," Eponine mumbled.

"Then you do this often?" Cosette inferred. Eponine's response was troubling; Cosette didn't like eating to be a reason to vomit, unless of course you got food poisoning.

"Yeah." Eponine sounded a little more ashamed.

"You know you're beautiful, right?" Cosette asked suddenly. "You've got these eyelashes that I swear are the cause of all the tsunamis they are so long! And your hair is fabulous, whether it's casual or braided like tonight. And your smile, nit your smirk, but your actual, real smile is stunning. Eponine, no matter what you think of yourself, I'm always here and willing to remind you just how brightly you shine." Cosette hated to think that other people suffered, she could handle when she hated herself, but she didn't want anyone to feel like her.

Eponine didn't have a snarky comeback to deflect Cosette's kind words. No one had ever said something that made her feel like Cosette just did. 

She slid the latch open slowly and Cosette waited eagerly for her to come out. All the sudden, Eponine lunged out of the stall, her arms wrapping around Cosette so aggressively, Cosette nearly tipped over.

"You are honestly my favorite person on this planet. Whenever I'm around you, I don't feel so shitty, you make me want to be a better person and stop being such a screw up-"

"Eponine, you're not-"

"You give me hope that there is at least one genuinely good person here. When I'm with you, I know it's not all bad, and I only hope that one day, everyone will be like- half- no, an eighth- as awesome as you. And I just-" 

Out of nowhere, Eponine's lips clashed against Cosette's, not holding back at all. She was a rough kisser; there was lips, and tongue and teeth, and so much passion. Her glossy, black nails pressed into Cosette's goose bump littered skin. Before Eponine was ready to stop, Cosette pulled away, rattled. 

Cosette felt like she was going to be sick. She made a beeline for the stall, yanked her hair back, and let it out into the porcelain. 

"Oh my God!" Eponine buried her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry." She backed up onto the sink and took a seat.

"I'm-" Cosette vomited. "Fine!" She felt horrible that she spilt her cookies right after Eponine surprised her with that kiss, but it tasted like barf!

"I can't believe I just made you throw up!" Eponine was hyperventilating, pinching the bridge of her nose in stress. 

"Eponine, please. " Cosette wobbled over to the sink to join her. She gagged a bit in her way, but was quick to swallow it. "It's not that I'm disgusted with you!"

Eponine perked up a bit at that. "Y-your not?"

"No!" Cosette gave her hand reassuring squeeze paired with a friendly smile. "You had just been- y'know. Your mouth still kind of tasted like it." There was no diplomatic way to say vomit, was there?

"Wait." Eponine hopped off the sink and began to pace across the cheap, sticker floor tiles. "So you're saying even if Zach Efron ate face with you after barfing, you'd get sick?"

"I'm not attracted to him, but yes."

"Really? Zefron's hot!" She quirked an eyebrow at Cosette who just shrugged.

"Not asking for consent aside, you're actually a very good kisser."

"Oh yeah?" Eponine's demeanor suddenly shifted to something a little off-putting and flirtatious. "Why don't I sucking on a Listerine, we go dance for an hour, and we do that again." Cosette didn't like how Eponine looked her, or how her frail hands were touching her thighs. 

"Eponine." She removed Eponine's hands politely. "You're brilliant, but I have feelings for someone else."

"S-someone else?" Eponine asked with wide eyes. Cosette tried to say something comforting, but Eponine stopped her. "There's always someone else." She said bitterly before storming out of the room. 

As much Cosette wanted to help, she thought it best to let Eponine cool off a little.

 

\---

 

The night was winding down. Most everyone had already left the scene to either hook up or marathon some crappy TV show on Netflix. Courfeyrac would have liked to be at home, snuggled up in a blanket watching episodes of Orange is the New Black he had already seen. It was better than watching other people squeeze another dance just because they couldn't get enough of the person they were with. Courfeyrac craved intimacy, but Marius only had eyes for Cosette. 

"This seat taken?" Grantaire asked, gesturing at the seat next to Courfeyrac with one of the two cups he was gripping.

"No. Sit in down. I could use some company." Courfeyrac patted the seat beside him.

"Sweet." Grantaire stumbled into the chair, obviously drunk and slung an arm around Courfeyrac. "Y'know what Courfeyrac?"

"What?" 

"Enjolras, he's a bitch 'nd a half. Like, so I spiked the punch! Big whoop!" Courfeyrac drowned out Grantaire's yammering and tried to find Marius in the crowd so they could get home. "And like, he's so pretty! But he's like 'beauty is a social construct.'"

That Eponine girl that hangs around Marius plopped down next to Grantaire in a hurry "Is there alcohol in that?" Eponine pointed at his cup. 

"Damn straight!" he announced proudly. Eponine's quick reflex, combined with Grantaire's drunkenness, allowed her to snatch the cup and down it in one chug. "Hey! I'm gonna tell a chaperone you drank my booze!"

"Please don't, Grantaire." Courfeyrac could tell he came off irritated by the dissaporving look on Eponine's. It wasn't that he wanted to be rude, he just couldn't deal with that at the time.

"Look who just ran into each other," Eponine grumbled. Sure enough, Marius and Cosette had found each other in the center of the dance floor. They looked at each other like their bodies were art, sculpted by the angels. It made Courfeyrac sick. 

Just as it happened for him and Marius, the upbeat song came to an end and the first chords of a sappy love sound rang through the gym. Marius itched the back of his neck sheepishly and tried his best to say something cute. It seemed he had suceeded by the way Cosette giggled and looked at her feet. All the sudden he was taking her, putting the hands he used to hold Courfeyrac on Cosette gently. She set her hands on his shoulders uncertainly as he eased them into a relaxed rock, effectively ripping Courfeyrac's heart apart. 

The song went on and their bodies inches closer until they pressed against each other the way Courfeyrac and Marius had. Only this time he didn't pull away. He wasn't embarrassed. He didn't crush Cosette like he did Courfeyrac. Maybe Courfeyrac couldn't make Marius happy. Maybe that was Cosette's job.

Eponine looked a little faint as she watched them end with Marius twirl Cosette around so that her dress flipped up enough to reveal her underwear. Courfeyrac looked even paler when the unthinkable happened: they kissed.


	12. Chapter 12

The morning had started out ordinary for Marius. He drifted in and out of consciousness until he rubbed his eyes open. The bedroom smelled like tennage boy and Axe body spray as it usually did thanks to Courfeyrac's obsession with all things Axe. But that was the end of the normalcy for that morning. 

Marius crawled down the ladder to find he was alone which was odd because Courfeyrac never woke up before him. Usually, Marius had to coax him awake with a gentle rattle. It was possible that Marius could have overslept. After homecoming, he was so happy, he could hardly keep his eyes shut. The face of the clock clicked from 9:26 to 9:27, proving the theory wrong. He didn't dwell on the strangeness of the morning, he simply made Courfeyrac's bed and then his own. 

Before Marius had moved in, Courfeyrac's bed was never made; the sheets were bunched up at the foot of the bed, and the comforter was untucked. Marius didn't mind cleaning up after Courfeyrac. He put a roof over his head. Besides, Marius couldn't live in a room were the beds were untidy. A habit instilled upon him by his Grandfather at a very young age. 

Marius climbed back to his bunk to straighten out the coverings. Making a top bunk was a challenge for Marius as he was a afraid of heights. Just sleeping so far above the ground was a nightmare, but he didn't have the guts to admit this to Courfeyrac. Not yet, at least.

The scent if breakfast wafted in from under the door, and Marius obediantly followed it through the halls, still in his pajamas. Generally, the kitchen was alive with laughter and great conversation. That morning, Marius walked in and there was none of that. Courfeyrac's broad smile wasn't flashing as he cracked a joke; his mothers looked a tad concerned about him wordlessly prodding his toast.

"Marius!" Courfeyrac's mom, the one named Maureen with the bright green eyes and dark brown bob, beamed at Marius. Courfeyrac had explained to Marius when he first met his mothers that he didn't like calling one mom and the other some variation of that so he called them the same thing and that somehow worked for them. 

"Good morning." Marius took his usual spot at the round table with four seats each with a floral cushion. Courfeyrac sat across from him and avoided eye contact. Everyone was uncomfortable with the unnatural silence, Marius could tell. 

Courfeyrac's other mom, the one named Amelia with long blonde hair and grey eyes, shifted awkwardly in her seat while the other anxiously fiddled with her cardigan. Every now and then, one of them would clear their throat in an attempt to break the silence. No one expected Courfeyrac to ever stop talking; Marius thought they ought to bring him to a doctor, but he kept that to himself.

"So, Marius, tell me, how was homecoming?" Maureen asked as she poured orange juice into a glass.

"It was really fun, especially since our team won the game." Marius wished he could have given an answer that stirred more conversation, his answer seemed pretty conclusive.

"You went to the game?" Amelia thankfully kept the ball rolling.

"No, but Bahorel told me all about it, so it sort of feels like I did." 

They urged him to tell them more about the game which he did to keep the flow. All through Marius detailing the game, Courfeyrac stayed hushed up. He didn't correct him when he mispronounced a players name, or when Marius purposely messed up the final score. Marius stopped suddenly.

"Courfeyrac, what's wrong?" Marius interrupted himself. 

"Me?" Courfeyrac didn't sound like himself. "Oh, I'm absolutely fine, Marius! Not heartbroken at all! Why would you ask such a silly question? It's not like my friend humiliated me last night and then played tonsil hockey with some girl right in front of me. Nope, didn't happen. Did you want some jam? I want some jam." Courfeyrac rambled at lightening speeds before jumping out of his chair and frantically running to the fridge. Something was definitely wrong. Even Marius could tell, and he was bad at reading people.

"Um, Amelia, how about we leave these kids to work things out?" Maureen suggested urgently.

"I thought you'd never ask!" They scrambled to clean their plates and hurried away. 

Courfeyrac was at the refridgerator, snagging every jar of jam, which was a decent arm full considering jam making was their favorite family activity. When one jar shattered against the ground, Courfeyrac started laughing hysterically. 

"Not my favorite flavor!" He chortled. "Doesn't it just suck when you think your going to have something and then, once your heart is set on it, it fall out of your arms? Ooh, that just burns me!" Courfeyrac clutched a handful of broken glass and chunky, red jam, just laughing at it sadly. It was like something had snapped with Courfeyrac when Marius and Cosette shared that kiss. 

"Courfeyrac!" Marius shot up. "Put that down! Now, I don't know what's gotten into you, but I don't like when you get all crazy. I want to talk about this." 

"Then talk to me, Marius!" He loaded the jam back into the fridge, knowing he had gone to far with his craziness. "What you did last night really hurt me! I thought we were having fun!"

"We were having fun!" Marius insisted as Courfeyrac came up to the table and slapped his hands on the surface. He wasn't lying. When they were dancing, he felt so safe, that is, until he saw that people were noticing to boys slow dancing. It shouldn't have bugged him because they were just friends but it did. 

"Then why did you stop? Why did you have to make me feel rejected?" Courfeyrac sat down, defeated. Marius joined him and reached over to grab his hand. 

"I don't know, I guess I'm nit as secure as you, Courf. And you have to believe me when I tell you I feel terrible." Marius was never good with apologies, but there was something about Courfeyrac that made everything easy, that relaxed him. Anything was possibly when he had Courfeyrac's hands in his own. "I came to hang out with you, my best friend, last night. I shouldn't have ditched you. Can you forgive me?" He squeezed his hand.

Courfeyrac couldn't help but smile at Marius. "Alright, fine. But I think you owe me a Starbucks date." He snickered.

"You got it!" 

 

\---

 

"Bonjour! You've reached Cosette! I'm so sorry I missed your call! Please leave me a message, I'd love to hear your beautiful voice!" It was the twelfth time Eponine had sat through Cosette's answering machine to leave her yet another apology for kissing her the night before. 

She had decided to play it off as a drunken stupor. Sure, Cosette may scold her for under aged drinking, but it would relieve some of the tension. She really didn't want her dumb feelings ruining the friendship they nearly missed out on already!

"Hey Cosette, it's Eponine. Again!" Eponine laughed at herself. "I just really think we should talk. Maybe you could come over and we could talk. Alright, I'll be calling you in like twenty minutes. I can almost gaureent it. Bye!" She pressed end and flopped down on her bed. The comforter smelt like cigarette smoke as usual, but there was subtle hints of nail polish. That reminded her about her little sister sneaking off at night to hook up with Montparnasse. 

They had gotten very close lately, and it was doing nothing for Eponine's nerves. She didn't like the thought of her freshman, little sister screwing around with a felon that Eponine used to have a fling with. It was a little trippy. 

Eponine rolled off the bed onto the stained carpet with a thud. She crawled across the, determined to reach the door and find out what Azelma was up to. Before she could twist the knob, the door came tearing open, the edge slashing Eponine's face. 

"Ow!" Eponine cried, clutching her bleding face.

"Oops!" Azelma gracefully extended her leg over Eponine. "Didn't know you were there!"

"Azelma!" Eponine struggled to her feet. The pain had rendered her slightly disoriented as she wobbled over to Azelma who was rummaging through Eponine's dresser without permission. "You can't just barge into my room and dig through my shit!" 

"Oh, and what're you hiding?" Azelma held a bra against her chest for size before casting it a aside murmurming something about it being too small, even though Azelma was much flatter than Eponine. "Some dirty picture in your drawers?" 

"I don't need to be hiding anything to not want your sticky finger s all over my room!" Eponine snatched a second bra out of Azelma's grasp. 

"Jeez! I was just trying to look good for my date!" 

"Casual sex with an adult is not a date. It's just illegal!" Eponine slammed her drawer shut, and she would have crushed Azelma's fingers if she wasn't so swift.

"You don't own me!" Azelma's fists clenched. "I'm a grown woman!"

"You just started your period last year! Five months ago, you were in middle school!" Eponine raged. "Just get out! If you're not going to listen to someone whose been through Montparnasse's bullshit, then leave!"

"Fine!" Azelma's defiance had faded. She tried to yell, but it had came out as more of a whimper. That poor girl broke Eponine's heart; she wanted- she needed help, but didn't know how to ask for it. Azelma fled the room and slammed the door that had a splotch of Eponine's blood dripping along the edge.

Azelma was exhausting; Eponine really didn't see the point in wasting her time with her when she had problems of her own. 

First of all, she was in love with Cosette, that was certain. Second of all, Cosette was in live with Marius, that was also certain. But the worst part was that she didn't have anyone to talk to. Cosette and Marius were her only friends with a criminal record, and the only ones who would listen to her whine about her teenage issues.

Sluggishly, Eponine made her way out the door and down the stairs, not even bothering to sneak out if the house. Even if she couldn't talk honestly about Cosette to him, she still wanted to see Marius. Besides she hadn't got him into enough trouble lately. 

"Hey, baby!" Montparnasse called from the front desk. It disgusted Eponine enough that Montparnasse was screwing with her sister, but calling her baby when that poor fifteen year old was so willing to give him everything to feel loved was flat out sick. 

"Don't call me that; you're dating my sister." She had her hand on the door knob when Montparnasse came out from behind the desk and grabbed her shoulder. His touch made her hairs stand on end. It had been so long since they had dated, but Eponine would never get over the way his tosuch burnt her skin. Everything about Montparnasse felt wrong. She just wanted to forget ever being with him, ever letting him touch her the way he was touching her sister. 

"We both now she's just second choice." Montparnasse's warm lips stung against her neck. "I'm just waiting for you to come back to me." His hands roamed her hips like he owned her.

"I'm never coming back, 'Parnasse." Eponine hissed. "Now, kindly get your mits off me before I snap them off!"

"C'mon, girly." His hands had moved uncomfortably low. "Don't you remember how we used to-" Before Montparnasse could saw something excplict, Eponine whiped around and slapped him straight across his smirking face. Montparnasse cried out as he clutched the red hand print on his cheek. 

"I don't know why, but Azelma is gaga over you. You need to respect her, you don't get to flirt with anyone when you're with my sister. There will be no more of this shit, okay?"

"Standing up for the little sank, huh?"

"Don't call my sister a sank!" Eponine said with gritted teeth. "She's a good girl!"

"Good girls would never do half the things she does for me." Montparnasse countered.

"She's young and stupid, and worst of all, she's convince that you love her. All she wants is to be loved, it's not her fault she was born into a shitty life! It's not her fault she was screwed to begin with!" Eponine hardly felt like she was talking about Azelma anymore. Her heart throbbed for Azelma because Eponine was her a few years ago. She didn't want her little sister to ever have to go through what she did.

"What do you think I am, sweetheart?" He leaned against the wall. "I'm good to your sister. It's not like we're dating."

"Tell that to her!" Eponine growled one last time before storming out. 

The street wasn't busy enough that day for her to leap in front of any cars, so she crossed the street safely like a boring person. 

Marius' house was charming. It was probably the most expensive town home Eponine had ever seen, making it the perfect house to rob. Fortunately for Marius and his Grandfather, Eponine did her best to keep her father's gang away from it's tempting unlocked windows. 

At the front of the yard, by the mailbox, there was a pile of pebbles she and Marius gathered years ago. Everytime she came over, Eponine would select a pebble and launch it at his ground level window from the mailbox. She wasn't sure what had drove her to go to the door instead that day, but it was lucky she had. 

Before she could even knock, Marius' grandfather opened the door. 

"We don't want any cookies, little girl." Eponine caught the door as he slammed it abruptly.

"I'm here for Marius," Eponine said, obviously irratated. At first, the man tried to shut the door again, but then curiousity struck and he opened it. 

"Marius? Don't you know know that he's gone?"

"Gone?" Eponine's brow furrowed.

"He's living with that weird Italian boy." Eponine was stunned that Marius, the kid she had been best friends with ever since they were toddlers, forgot to mention he was living with Courfeyrac. "The little disgrace ran away, and when he returns, I'll be shipping him off to military school."

"Military school?"

"That's right! Now, if you'll excuse me, my soaps are on." He threw the door shut, leaving Eponine with so many questions rolling around in her mind. The moment Marius sulked back to his house, he would be gone, and so would his romance with Cosette. It was absolutely perfect.


	13. Chapter 13

It was a long shot, even Enjolras knew that. Getting a bunch of high schoolers, who really only care about getting laid, to walk out during second period to protest the recent actions of the football coach, seemed nearly impossible. However, Courfeyrac was determined for this to be a success, especially given what happened to Jehan after homecoming. 

Jehan and his date were just walking to the car, minding there own business when a few studs from the football team came out of nowhere and beat them up. Of course Jehan was scrappy enough to fend them off, but were it anyone else, there could've been serious damage done. Still, just because Jehan was the toughest, boy under 5'3" to ever put on a dress, it didn't give those boys the right to attack them. 

After the incident, Bahorel went over to Jehan's house to apologize on behalf of the numb skulls he called teammates. According to Bahorel, when coach found out his son was going to homecoming, he encouraged the boys to quote 'show those pansies a lesson'. Enjolras heard about this and was outraged to the point of organizing a last minute protest. 

Courfeyrac had made sure everyone knew about the protest through countless text messages, Facebook statuses, Tweets, Tumblr posts, and good, old-fashion gossip. Enjolras's megaphone had fresh batteries, chants were planned, signs were made- no thanks to Grantaire- and issued to the masses. Everything was ready. They were just waiting on the clock. 

Courfeyrac and Marius were in social studies, only half listening as their hearts raced with anticipation. They were supposed to be reading along while classmates read out loud, but they were both a good five pages behind. The clock seemed to drag, each tick delayed. The little hand was aimed a little past the nine, and the big hand midway between the six and the seven. 9:35am was the time Enjolras had planned. He wanted it before lunch so they could stage a hunger strike. 

The big hand hit the dash before the seven mark. 

9:34am

Courfeyrac turned to Marius with a devilish grin and stuffed his textbook in his desk. He scanned the room; he wasn't the only one waiting in the edge of his chair. 

The thin, red, second hand spun around the circular face until it finally struck the twelve, trigger the minute hand to flick to the next dash. 

9:35am

Courfeyrac was the first, but not the only to stand. 

"Class is not over!" The teacher called as the students purposefully marched out the door. 

To Courfeyrac's surprise, the halls were flooded with students. Some wore Pride shirts, some dug through their locker for picket signs, but everyone was ready for the fight ahead. 

Up ahead, Courfeyrac could hear Enjolras' voice blaring through his megaphone. He was barking out directions and remaining everyone why they were protesting. "Do we want to go to a school where an adult encourages harrasment?" His passionate voice shook the school. 

"No!" Everyone responded, puncuating their reply by punching their fists into the air. 

"Do we want to go to a school where their is no punishment for blatant homophobia?" Enjolras cried.

"No!" 

"To the quad!" Enjolras shouted. 

The quad was at the front of the school with benches, perfectly landscaped lawns, and a fountain in a concrete, sunken area. There was a metal statue of the school mascot on the sidewalk from the front to the fountain. It was a panther, precisely to scale, known for being rode by students. Enjolras thought it was a wonderful place to lead the student body. 

Courfeyrac fought through the crowd. 

"Excuse me!" He wove in and out of clusters of students, dragging Marius behind. 

Enjolras was standing authoritively on the fountain with Combeferre handing out pins and pamphlets beside him. Feuilly was pacing in front of them with a sign on his shoulder. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were leading chants while Jehan and the coach's son waved rainbow flags on the edges of the fountain. Amid the crowd, Cosette was scrambling to get signatures for the petition to get the coach fired. Eponine trailed behind her like a lost puppy. 

Then there was Grantaire, openly smoking with a bottle of booze on the fountain at Enjolras' feet. He didn't care about any of this. Or at least that's what he had said. Courfeyrac thought Grantaire cared about very little of Enjolras' causes, but this one, the fight for marriage equality and ending homophobia, might be the one Grantaire had the most interest in.

"Where will it end? How many people will be targeted before something changes? When will we stop tolerating intolerance?" 

Out of the corner of his eye, Courfeyrac caught a glance of Bahorel running the wrong way. His first instinct was to grab his arm. "Bahorel!" The football player wiped around with a guilty look on his face. "Where are you going? We're just getting started!" 

"Um." He stared at his feet. "Look, Courfeyrac, this isn't like personal or anythin', but I just can't be seen here. If coach sees me-"

"Oh, I get it." Clearly disappointed, a weak smile flashed once on Courfeyrac's face.

"Courf, it's not that I don't- I mean I already apologized to Jehan and yelled at the guys- It's just- scholarships and stuff. If I did something like this, no way Notre Dame is going to recruit me after that!" Bahorel set his hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder and gave it an apologetic squeeze. "Tell Jehan I'm sorry. I just- I worked way to hard for that scholarship." 

Courfeyrac understood, but he knew Enjolras was going to flip out. He had decided it would be best to pretend Bahorel hadn't ditch the protest. 

"Hey, I'm going up there with Enjolras," Courfeyrac said to Marius. 

"Okay." Marius eyes wandered, spotting Cosette with her petition. "I'm gonna go help Cosette." 

As much as Courfeyrac didn't want Marius and Cosette to be near each other, he knew he had to go help Enjolras. Courfeyrac gazed longily at Marius, wanting to hug him like Cosette was, but he knew his place. Changing the world came first. 

"Sucks doesn't it." Eponine snuck up behind him. "Don't you just wish they'd break up?"

"I guess." He shrugged. 

"I was just at his house and his grandfather said the funniest thing. Something about Marius not being allowed to date Cosette. Apparently he has something against the family." She sounded slippery. "He says that the minute Marius comes back, he's gonna make him break up with her." Eponine tipped her head at Cosette who was handing a pen to a teacher with a convincing smile. 

"You mean-"

"Yep, if you kick him out, Marius and Cosette are done. Then you can flirt it up the dope until your little heart goes out." 

Courfeyrac pondered that thought. With Cosette out of the picture, there was nothing stopping Courfeyrac from seducing the pants off Marius. It was the perfect way to break them up without the blame falling on Courfeyrac's shoulders. 

"You think I could just kick him out?" Courfeyrac clarified.

"Hey, it would help us both out," Eponine said conclusively, channeling her inner Montparnasse.

The rest of the protest, even when the teachers wrangled him, Enjolras and Combeferre into the primcipal's office, Courfeyrac couldn't stop thinking about what Eponine had said. Could he really break them up?

 

\---

 

The protest ended all too quickly, and since they really couldn't punish the whole school, Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac took the blame gladly. Cosette knew Valjean wasn't going to be thrilled about Enjolras getting detention, but he would be proud of him taking a stand. Valjean knew Enjolras didn't want to get in trouble, but sometimes you have to get your hands a little dirty to clean up the world. 

The protest was forcibly ended before lunch, so Cosette trotted up to her locker to get her meal. That day, she was going to reach out to Grantaire in a bold way. She was really missing having Grantaire over after school. Since he's not allowed back due to his vices, Cosette decided to help him quit smoking. If that went well, she would shift her focus to his alcohol addiction. To break the ice, she was going to give Grantaire a nicotine patch and say that things need to change. 

Cosette fished into her paper bag for the patch as she approach Grantaire's locker. "Hey, Grantaire," she chirped.

"Hey," Grantaire said with his gravelly voice. Cosette knew he might be offended that Cosette was trying to help him, but she sincerely thought it was worth a try. 

"I have a present for you." She swiveled coyly, giving Grantaire a smirk. 

"And what might that be?" He turned away from his locker with a sketchbook under his arm. His simper drooped when he saw her waving the nicotine patch proudly. "Is this some sort of joke?" He jeered. 

"Grantaire, I'm trying to help-" 

"What is with you two?" Grantaire flouted. 

"Who?" Cosette asked cautiously.

"You and Enjolras!" Grantaire's tone frightened Cosette. "You two are always trying to fix things!" He made violent hand gestures as he spat the word fix. "It's like nothing is ever good enough for you two! Nothing! Not the government, not that coach guy, not me!" A vain on Grantaire's neck was bulging, and suddenly, he dissolved into a man how seemed to feel about two inches tall. "Not me." He slumped down against the wall of lockers.

"Grantaire." She cooed, trying to reach out to cup his face, but he just flinched away.

"Why don't you guys get it?" He quivered. "Why don't you understand that I can't be saved? I've gone t-too f-f-far." Cosette sighed and slid down next to him. 

"Why don't you understand how much we care about you?" Cosette pursed her lips."It's not that you aren't good enough, it's that you're so good enough that we want you to love yourself as much as we do. And in order to do that, you need to start taking care of yourself."

It was quiet for a moment. 

"Cosette, when you say 'we' does that mean you and Enjolras?" He swallowed hard, waiting for Cosette to tell him Enjolras couldn't care less about him. 

"Of course I do, Enjolras cares about you, no matter what he says." The sweet smile on Grantaire's tear streaked face made Cosette melt. "What're you grinning about?" She teased.

"You. Enjolras."

"But mostly Enjolras?" Cosette joked, making Grantaire fight a blush. "You really love him, don't you?" 

"Nah, he's just a piece of ass." Grantaire yanked himself up with the help of his locker door. "See you at lunch." He coasted through the hall in a slouch, but as he left Cosette, a few loose papers fell out of his sketchbook. Dutifully, Cosette pounced on the drawings to prevent them from being stepped on. 

"Gr-" Curousity took over, silencing her. 

She shuffled through the drawings in awe. Sure, they were completely gorgeous and so realistic it was scary, but the part that really struck her was that everyone of those pictures were of Enjolras. 

Everyone of them.

 

\---

 

"This is cruel and unusual punishment!" Courfeyrac growled as he scrubbed the dingy tiles.

"We did disturb learning for over two hours." Combeferre countered whilst disinfecting the toliet seats.

As much as Enjolras agreed with Courfeyrac, Combeferre did have a point. What they did could have easily got them expelled, they were lucky a few weeks of detention was all they were sentenced. Of course, Combeferre and Enjolras were at the top of their class with Courfeyrac not far behind in less advanced courses. But what really saved them was Enjolras' position of student body president. He was the best one that school had ever seen, the principal wasn't about to strip him of his title with a harsh punishment. Enjolras felt a tad guilty that he was being let off the hook, but he didn't want to fight it. That could get Combeferre and Courfeyrac in even more trouble and it wasn't Enjolras' place to do that. 

The protest had ended badly, the coach was defended by the staff and Enjolras had to be dragged inside by the shop teacher. Combeferre tried to convince Enjolras to leave peacefully, but he wasn't leaving without a fight. 

Courfeyrac was the same way. He screamed statistics about LGBTQIA+ teens (facts that Combeferre had taught him) at the faculty until he was red in the face. In the end, Courfeyrac was carted off as the crowd cheered for him. 

The principal gave them a stern lecture about revolting, telling the trio that he ought to expell them for their little stunt. Still, he was very forgiving. Though his vice principal counterpart insisted on at least an extended suspension, the principal let them off the hook with what he called 'Intense Detention' 

"If you can't do the time, don't do the crime." Enjolras mumbled, wiping down the mirror. He knew that would be what his father said if he complained about detention. 

"Oh, nice!" Combeferre growled sarcastically."Why do teenage boys think it's alright to leave their condoms lying around?" Combeferre emerged from the stall he was working in, flapping a packaged conterceptive. 

Eagerly, Courfeyrac snatch the condom. "Wouldn't want this to go to last now would we, Enjolras?" He smirked.

"Buzz off." Enjolras climbed onto the sink with a grumble. "Believe it not, Courf, not everyone is into boys like you."

Courfeyrac's eyebrow quirked. "Really?" He plopped down on the sink beside Enjolras. "You mean you're not gay? Why my gaydar has really gone to the dogs."

Enjolras wanted to explained that he didn't regularly expirence attraction, but when he did it was strictly towards males, something that confused him. Homo-grey-asexual sounded a bit ridiculous to him but that's how he'd describe his sexuality and his romantic orientation, really.

"What about you, 'Ferre? What are you?" Courfeyrac asked. 

"I- er- boys are- well, generally- I'm just confused." Combeferre shrugged, joining them in the sinks defeatedly. 

"Me too." Enjolras pursed his lips. For some twisted reason, Courfeyrac's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"My little queerios!" He cheered, wrapping his arms around them. "My best friends, questioning their sexualities! Pinch me I'm dreaming!" Enjolras gladly obliged. "I didn't mean literally, Enjolras." 

"It's really not a big deal, Courf." Combeferre tried to bring Courfeyrac down easy, but he just hopped off the sink and started celebrating. 

'"Uh, yes it is! I could smell it! You, my friend are a flaming homosexual!" He pointed at Combeferre. 

"Well I don't know about that." 

"I do! C'mon 'Ferre, let's settle this once and for all. Kiss me!" Courfeyrac was pretty excited but Combeferre looked about ready to lose his lunch.

"W-what?" Combeferre blinked at him, clearly baffled by the prospect of actually kissing Courfeyrac. 

"It's whatever, y'know. Just a kiss to see if you're gay or something."

Combeferre had been questioning his one sexuality since middle school. Secretly checking out other boys in the locker rooms, wondering if anyone in their was as confused as he was. He was never really into girls, though he had a few barely more than platonic, 'romantic' relationships with girls. He couldn't deny his curiosity, or his crush on the cute, curly haired boy who was offering his lips to his expiremental game. 

"Uh, yeah. Sure. It's worth a try." Combeferre nervously stepped off the sink and looked back at Enjolras for approval. His expression was completely unfortelling which made Combeferre even more nervous than Enjolras most severe glare of disapproval. 

Courfeyrac smirked at him, clasping his hands behind Combeferre's neck. Clearing his throat, Combeferre went for his hips as politely as he knew how. He had done this before with girls, how different could it be? 

"You ready?"

Combeferre nodded. 

Tenderly, Courfeyrac leaned forward and pressed his lips to Combeferre's. 

It was very different. 

The kisses he had shared with girls were nice, but they paled in comparison to that of Courfeyrac. The way Courfeyrac's lips moved against his own sent him into a daze. His very aroma, the way he could taste it on his lips instead of cheap lip smackers was intoxicating. He couldn't get enough of Courfeyrac. Of his tongue timidly asking permission to be involved in the kiss. Of his hands carding through his hair. Of his body pressed against his. 

It ended all to fast for Combeferre. Courfeyrac had orchestrated their kiss like a good story: aeginning to keep his interest long enough to set the mood. An intense, passionate climax, and a perfect, unwinding end. 

"How was that?" Courfeyrac asked all too coolly. 

"That was- I'm not straight." 

Courfeyrac chuckled and Combeferre could tell the kiss was meaningless to him. Did his flushed face not give him away? Combeferre was head over heels in love with Courfeyrac.


	14. Chapter 14

Cosette was overjoyed. Just a few short weeks ago, she thought she could never let herself do this, but there she was getting ready for a date with Marius. He had asked her out at lunch, the day of the protest. His whole face was red with embarrassment as he stuttered about how beautiful she was and asked if she wanted to go to dinner with him on Friday. 

Friday had finally arrived.

Cosette twirled her hair around the hot, metal rod of her curling iron in front of the bathroom mirror. Ever since her hair was long enough, Cosette was always styling her hair. Braids, bows, curls, you name it, she had done it with her hair. But curling with her wand was her speciality, making it a safe, yet gorgeous style for her dinner date with Marius. Besides, hair made all the difference when it came to Cosette's dysphoria. 

That night, she had decided to wear a maroon sweater dress that used to look ridiculous on her boyish figure, but everyday, her estrogen made her look subtly more feminine with the help of some prosthetics and carefully planned outfits. The dress was plain, so Cosette added a set of assorted gold chains. 

After Homecoming, Cosette seemed to have a change of heart. She still didn't think that Marius would geniunely accept her just yet, but she was sure after a few dates, he might be smitten enough not to care. 

Of course, Valjean had a rule about Cosette and boys. She was not allowed to pursue relationships with anyone, boy, girl, non-binary, cis or not, they had to know about her situation. Apparently, some people aren't interested in romancing a trans girl. Cosette understood that, she wouldn't want them to face any bullying due to her, and some people are exclusively attracted to people who's parts match their gender.

Since Marius was not aware of her situation, she had told her dad she was going to hang out with Eponine. Thankfully Valjean wasn't home to check. He had some church meeting. But Enjolras was home, and he knew Marius had asked her out and that she agreed without a disclaimer. 

"Hey." Enjolras leaned against the doorframe casually. Ever since Cosette had agreeed to go on this date with Marius, Enjolras has been on her case. Apparently he didn't believe in her 'love-conquers-all' plan and would rather she just be honest with him from the beginning.

"Hi, Enjolras." Cosette sighed, flicking her curler off. 

"Courfeyrac called." He said with a weak smile. "Marius is on his way." 

"Okay." She coiled the wire around the body of the curler and pushed past Enjolras.

"Okay?" Enjolras shook his head indignantly, which sent his blond curls bobbing. "Cosette, nothing about this whole night is okay!"

"Enjolras, please."

"No. Cosette you have to be honest with the kid! If dad knew that you were going out with Marius and he doesn't know-"

"You hush!" Cosette hissed with her finger prodding Enjolras' chest. "Marius is a nice boy, and-"

"He deserves to know who he's going out with!" Enjolras was livid, and Cosette didn't understand why he was on Marius' side. He didn't even like Marius! All she really knew was she wanted to be away from Enjolras' negativity, especially when she knew he was right. 

"And he will know!" She promised as she hurried down the stairs, Enjolras stomping after her. 

"You can't build a relationship on lies!" 

Cosette stopped abruptly at the end of the railing and narrowed her eyes harshly at Enjolras. "I am not lying! God! Did it ever occur to you that I like people thinking I'm cis female? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I need to get to know Marius before I confess something extremely personal that shouldn't even matter!" 

Enjolras was- for once- speechless. As much as he wanted to fight, he had to be mindful of Cosette's feelings. Her gender had caused her so much pain already, and she had the right to withhold that bit of information until she could really trust Marius. Though it would be better to start without any secrets, Enjolras understood that Cosette being trans was far from the mist important thing about her. What really mattered was her heart.

"Okay." Cosette made no mistake, Enjolras was not happy with this, but he was sympathetic. 

"Thank you." She huffed. "Now if you'll excuse me-" Cosette walked to the door. "He's here."

 

\---

 

"Is this your car?" Cosette asked, exaiming the fuzzy, purple dice hundred from the rear-view mirror. 

"No, I'm just borrowing from Courfeyrac." Marius couldn't tell if he sounded as nervous as he felt. Every time Cosette spoke to him, Marius had himself convinced she was going to tell him he was doing something wrong or that she never wanted to see him again. Okay, maybe Marius was a bit on edge.

"So, where are you taking us?" Conversation wasn't flowing very well so far which Marius didn't mind because because of his introverted attitude. He was never into small talk, even when it was with Cosette. But now she had a real question, forcing Marius to give a real answer. 

"Well, Jehan told me about this really nice bookstore café downtown. Is that okay?" Marius drummed his fingers against the wheel to transfer his jitters. 

"That sounds really, really nice, Marius." Cosette smiled and waited a beat. "Can I ask you a question?"

Hoping she wasn't going to ask him to never speak to her again, Marius nodded. "Yeah, of course." 

"Why are you so nervous around me?"

Shit.

"I-um. W-well, you see-" He took a deep breath. "Cosette, I really like you, and I really want things to work out between us, but I know I'll end up screwing things up like usual." 

Cosette looked at him with compassion blooming in her shimmering blue eyes. "Is that how you really feel, Marius?" Marius opened his mouth to take back what he said with some suave save, but no sound came out so he hung his head and nodded. "Believe me, you won't be the one who messes this up. You're sweet and charming and the cutest boy I have ever met. I want you to feel comfortable with me, Marius. Don't worry too much." 

Though a little pep-talk like that usually didn't soothe Marius, Cosette was different. Her words carried more weight to Marius than anyone else's.

When they pulled up to the café and Marius squeezed into a parallel parking space right in front of the window where the neon open sign glowed, it was nearly eight thirty. 

Miss Maisie's was what the little calk board outside read in loopy pink and yellow, cursive. Below were that day's specializes and an announcement welcoming their new staff member, Claudia.

It was a little store front nestled between a pair of antique stores. The pastel, pink siding was drooping in places and the shutters were all chipped up. Cute plants poked out of their little clay pots on the window sill inside, each pot painted to team up and spell welcome. The curtains looked moth-eaten, the roof looked slightly caved in, the numbered adress was faded, and the shop was mostly lit by candle light.

From the cracked street, the little cafe didn't look like much more than a rotting building with two dusty tables out front, but Cosette still looked enamored by the romance of a bookstore date.

"Wow." She gasped. 

Marius grinned at her, admiring her wide eyes before climbing out the car and rushing to her door. Like a gentleman, Marius popped her door open and escorted her into the store.

Instead of a string of jingling bells sounding with the swinging of the door, a chain of skulls painted metallic gold clanged against the green door. This place was deifinitely right up Jehan's ally. In fact, Marius saw several boys with long hair. None as long and luscious as Jehan's of course. 

"This is amazing." Cosette whispered as she soaked in the charm of some Macreepy old paintings of colonial women all posed alike. 

"Coffee?" A young woman with pin-straight, lavender hair that ended above her shoulders disturbed the eerie silence. 

"One white chocolate mocha." Marius ordered politely. 

"And for you, doll?" She grinned, revealing crooked, yellow teeth. 

"I'll have the same."

"Six fifty." The woman turned around and began fiddling with different small appliances behind her. "You've come on a good night, no one's in the back room. It's perfectly private tonight, but it'll cost." 

"That sounds- er- nice." Marius pulled out his wallet. 

"The rooms free; the key'll cost ten bucks." Marius nodded and slid her $16.50. 

"Here's your drinks." She set the mochas on a cute tray with a dingy doiley. "And your key. Miss Maisie's is not responsible for injuries and/or pregnancies that occur in it's vacinity." 

Cosette looked puzzled and a hair curious, Marius went red. "Who gets pregnant in a-" 

"You'd be surprised, doll."

Marius took the tray, determined not to trip over a rug or something on their way to the back room. "You spill on any books and Jameson will end you," the counter girl called after them. 

Cosette unlocked the door and held it open for Marius. It was a cozy little room with bookshelves covering every inch of wall except for a little alcove created by two pairs of book shelves pushed together at right angles, making boxes with two adjacent corners. Between those two squares jutting out, the top four feet of the wall space was occupied by a built in shelf. The alcove created by those three features was perfect for reading and cuddling in, especially with all the vintage pillows and blankets. 

There was an antique table just big enough for the tray and an ornate lamp with stain glass shade. Marius set down their mochas there and watched Cosette explore the selves.

"Marius!" She gasped. "This is gorgeous!" 

"Did you maybe want to read something together?" Marius suggested, walking up behind her as she pulled a book half off the shelf to get a better look. 

"Oh, could we?" Cosette spun around and beamed at him. 

"That's kind of what I had planned." He shrugged. "You can pick what we read." Marius backed up into the nest of pillow and soaked in the sight of Cosette scampering around the itty bitty, orderless library. This room was the best ten bucks he had ever spent.

"They've got plays!" Cosette squealed cutely. Usually Marius was annoyed when people got all jumpy and excited like that because it was overwhelming for him, and it still was with Cosette, but a good overwhelming that made his heart pound. 

"How 'bout- this one!" Cosette snatched the oldest, dustiest book on the self. The yellowed pages were bond in a faded turquise with a gold engraved title on the weak spine and tattered cover. "It's called *insert title*." She plopped down next to him and handed him the book.

Something about her childlike enthusiasm reminded him of someone he used to know. 

"Okay." He flipped through the frail pages once quickly and tried to pass it back to Cosette but she pushed the book away. 

"Not-uh!" She wiggled her finger at him. "I picked the book, so you pick the play. Try not to pick anything with too many characters, okay?"

Marius smiled as he skimmed the table of contents, looking through the list entitled duets. It wasn't really a play book, there were a few skits, but mostly monologues and duets. Still, Cosette seemed very eager to dive into a scene with Marius. 

His finger traced over the last title. It was had written in light pencil which Marius found peculiar. He turned to the page number- also scribbled in- and saw a brave writer had taken advantage of the extra pages in the back as well as the inside and outside of the back cover. People seemed to wonder why publishers shoved a few extra pages in at the end, maybe they are made to be filled. 

"Let's try this one." Marius pointed at the scrawl. 

"Is that written in pencil?" Cosette reached out the feel the charcoal against the pads of her fingers. "Strange. But I like it."

"Me too." Marius cleared his throat and read to Cosette about the setting and the characters, preparing to play his role.

 

\---

 

"Farewell, my love, and should we met again, it will be in heaven. Whether it be in llife or in death, for you are my heaven." Cosette's eyes were misty. As it turned out, the handwritten scene was without a doubt the most heartbreaking scene either them had read. Without even knowing it, hey had ended up huddled together with a blanket draped over their shoulders. Cosette's head was resting on his shoulder and they were clinging to each other for emotional support. 

That was the final line, but there was one last stage direction. Unlike the previous directions, which were as flowery as the romantic dialogue, this last one was simple and direct. 

And then, they kissed.

Four words. Marius had waxed on about Cosette for four paragraphs not three pages ago, but these four words, that no one had to say, were impossible for her. She couldn't just kiss him, though he looked like he might be leaning in, it wasn't like Marius to be spontaneous or bold. There was no way he was going to kiss her without a little nudge. 

"And then, they kissed." Cosette read aloud, looking directly at Marius. They had done it before, just an innocent peck. She hardly felt it against her lips, but her heart felt it. She wanted it to happen. This time she wanted to feel it everywhere, to possess her body.

All the sudden, Marius' lips were against hers, and just as abruptly, she wanted them off. She didn't retract, but as soon as he kissed her, she was bombarded by a memory.

It was when they were both little, Cosette was in raggedy overalls and Marius was in his pampered boy rain clothes. They were under an umbrella in the rain, talking about everything and nothing. Marius was quieter than Cosette, so he mostly just listened to her babble. 

"...and you'll wear a fancy black penguin thingy and I'll be in a big, poofy, white dress-"

"The kind with the spider web thing that goes over your whole face?"

"It's not a spider web, Marius. It's called a veil!" She squeaked.

"Well, it's not a penguin thingy, it's a tux-eed-io!" 

"Not uh!" Cosette put the hand that wasn't helping Marius support the umbrella on her hip and stuck her tongue out. 

"Yeah huh!" Marius whined, stomping into a puddle to punctuate his words.

"It doesn't matter what it's called! What matters is that we're gonna get married!" They kept walking along the gravel path.

"Okay, what do we do next?" Marius clutched the umbrella with both hands.

"Then, you say that you love me, and that I'm the most prettiest girl in the whole, wide world and we kiss." 

Marius stopped suddenly. "Ew!" 

"Kissing isn't ew!" Cosette put both hands on her hips.

"What about the cooties?" 

"'Ponine says cooties aren't real." 

"How do we know?" Marius furrowed his brow.

"Only one way to find out." Cosette shrugged. 

"How?"

"Kiss me." Cosette grabbed the umbrella with both her hands. 

Marius looked shocked at first, and Cosette was ready to take it back, but then Marius' lips thrust onto her own, leaving her speechless. Unfortunately, the kiss didn't leave Eponine speechless.

"Mommy, mommy!" She gasped. "Eugene kissed a boy!" Eponine went sprinting to the house. Having no choice, Cosette chased her in efforts to stop her. When Cosette reached the house, it was to late. Monsieur Thenardier had the belt ready.

When Marius ended the kiss that night, there was no one to tattle on her, but she was crying anyways.

"Cosette?" Marius tried to figure out what was wrong, but telling him would reveal her secret.

"Marius. Marius, just please take me home. Please take m-me home." 

 

\---

 

Courfeyrac had turned pff his Xbox early that night. He couldn't focus on anything else but what Cosette and Marius might be doing while he was shooting digital zombies and cussing at twelve year olds. It was only a bit past ten o'clock when he flicked off his headset and retired to his bed to stare at the underside of the top bunk and daydream about Marius rolling around up there, unable to sleep.

Suddenly, the door wrenched open, smacking against the wall. 

"Marius?" Courfeyrac bolted straight up in his bed. "How was your date?" Part of Courfeyrac wanted Marius' date to be amazing, but an awfully selfish part of him wanted it to have been a disaster.

"I don't want to talk about it!" He stomped over to the ladder of his bunk bed. 

"Marius, c'mon!" Courfeyrac hopped out off bed and yanked him off the ladder. "Sit down and talk to me." He gave Marius a little shove onto Courfeyrac's mattress. 

"There's nothing to talk about." When he tried to stand up, Courfeyrac just pushed him back down.

"Nope! We're going to stay up all night to make you feel better if we have to!" 

"As nice of an offer as that is, I really just want to go to bed." Marius hung his head. "Maybe I could sleep down here with you? I'm kind of afraid of the top bunk, y'know because of the whole falling concept." 

This was Courfeyrac's chance to share a bed with Marius and he wasn't going to pass that up. "Yeah! Sure! We could do that," he said, trying to hide his excitement.

"Thanks. And maybe we can cuddle or something?" Needless to say, Courfeyrac was on cloud nine.

They both crawled under the covers and entangled their limbs. Courfeyrac curled slightly on his side, holding Marius who's back was pressed against Courfeyrac's front even though he was taller. Marius gripped Courfeyrac's arms (which were hugging him under his chest) from below. One of Courfeyrac's flannel clad legs hooked over Marius'. His head nuzzled in the nape Marius neck.

Usually, when Marius sleepy on the top bunk, it took him an hour or two to drift off to sleep, but that night, he was almost instantly asleep. 

"Marius?" Courfeyrac whispered harshly. "Are you asleep?" 

There was no answer.

"Good." He nestle closer to him, wanting to eliminated ever bit of space that kept them apart. "I wanted to talk to you, and when I say you, I mean you when you won't remember a thing I say." He chuckled at himself. 

"So, here it goes. I really, really like you. Like I've been crazy about you basically since we met, and don't get me wrong, I love being friends, so much that I want to be more than that. And I don't know why I've even been helping you with Cosette. I like to think it's because I'm being some sort of love martyr and putting your needs before my own, but really I just think I was trying to let myself down easy. And honestly, it didn't work." Marius stirred in his sleep to hold Courfeyrac's hand.

"I just- I feel so shitty because you've made so much progress with Cosette and I haven't made any with you. Well, I guess that's not true. I mean we are spooning in my bed, y'know because you're afraid of the top bunk. And I don't judge you for that, it's totally a legitimate fear, falling. Because when you're falling, you don't know if someone will catch you, or if you'll just crash." Courfeyrac felt tears stinging his eyes. 

"But, I'll always be here to catch you." He sniffled "I just hope that you'll catch me. I've been falling for a while now, I've got to be close to the ground." Courfeyrac kissed Marius neck softly, hoping that this aching, this yearning would end without him crashing.


	15. Chapter 15

Mean Girls describes Halloween as the one night a year a girl can dress like a complete slut and no one can give her crap about it. Naturally, Enjolras is looking to change that slut shaming mentality. He believes everyone should wear exactly what they want without shame. So the Halloween of his senior year, Cosette wasn't surprised when he asked her to help him pick out the tightest, most revealing and what our corrupt society would call 'Sluttiest' costume on the rack.

"What about this one?" Cosette filtered through a circular rack of costumes in crinkley garment bags. The costume she had found was definitely more sexualized than the male version would be, but it was still tasteful. No fish nets, not too low cut, not to tight.

"Cosette, a nun could wear that." He rolled his eyes. 

"Halloween is tomorrow; you don't have enough time or options to be picky." 

"Who is that golden voice I hear?" A voice asked - clearly knowing the answer - from behind her. When she turned around, she saw a smirking Courfeyrac accompanied by Marius who was looking adorably awkward as ever. 

"Courfeyrac!" Cosette scampered over to Courfeyrac and threw her arms around him. Giggling, he picked her up and spun her until she was dizzy. Marius looked jealous, but not because Courfeyrac was getting to hug Cosette. He almost seemed to be jealous that Cosette was getting to be twirled around by Courfeyrac. 

"How're you doing on your lines?" Courfeyrac's voice gave away that he hadn't even looked at his script.

"Enjolras and I rehearse every night. I'm off book for most of Act Two." Cosette smiled proudly.

"You don't have a voice in Act Two." 

"Yes, but my faces for Kiss The Girl are spot on." Cosette and Courfeyrac laughed a bit about just how cute she was being before Jehan rounded the corner, pushing a cart full of candy corn.

"Jehan!" Courfeyrac greeted.

"Oh! Hi, all." He waved at them half-heartedly before trying to leave without explaining all the candy corn he had in that cart of his. 

"Whoa, where are you going, buddy?" Courfeyrac slung his arm around Jehan and stirred him back to the conversation. "Don't you want to tell us what's up with all the candy corn?"

"Not really, but okay. The flow of energy was off in this store, so I'm moving the candy section over there." Jehan pointed at the opposite side of store from the candy aisle.

"Do you work here?" Marius looked puzzled, wondering why Jehan wasn't in uniform if he did. 

Jehan pondered the thought for longer than some should. "Well, I'm not employed here, but I have done work here. Why just last week I wrote poem for English about the man who pushes the carts into the carral." It was plain that Marius was still not used to Jehan's antics. "I'm just doing this as a favor."

"It's not a favor if they didn't want it done, Jehan." Courfeyrac gave him a friendly reminder.

"Well did anyone really want disco to die? Wasn't that a favor?"

"Touche."

"On a scale of one to ten, how likely am I to be victim blamed if I was assualted in this?" He held up a little cat costume for them to evaluate.

"Enjolras, that's for toddlers." Cosette snatched the hanger from him and hung it back up. "Go look over there in the Women's section." 

"Wait, are you wearing one of those skimpy costumes to Jehan's party?" Courfeyrac's eyes lit up like Enjolras' idea was genius. From the Women's section, Enjolras nodded. 

"I swear, he turns everything into a protest!" The admiration Cosette harbored for her brother shone in her eyes. The way Enjolras could take something ordinary and use it to promote his causes was something Cosette found very special. 

"That's like brilliant." Courfeyrac hopped over to Enjolras and started picking through the costumes eagerly. "I'm totally jumping on this statement, man." 

"I guess I could take a break from my favor to find a costume." Jehan skipped over to the women's section.

Cosette watched them holding costumes against their bodies for size, memories coming back to her.

When Fantine was alive, and Cosette was in the Thenadier's keeping, there was still a far bit of joy in her life. Fantine would come visit ever time she earned enough money to take a cab over to the Motel. If it had been an especially good time for Fantine financially, and even sometimes when it hadn't been, she would bring Cosette gifts. Most of the time just sweets or a pair of warm socks, but once after Cosette told her mother how much she wanted to be a girl, and how much trouble she got in for trying on Eponine's dress, Fantine brought her some new clothes.

"My little girl is going to be the prettiest of them all," she had said. She dug around in her shopping bag and revealed a beautiful, light purple dress. It wasn't as spectacular as Eponine's, hardly more than a nightgown, but to Cosette, it was better than any dress she had hoped to wear because it was her's. 

Fantine helped a very fidgety and excited Cosette into the cottony dress. Of course she didn't look gorgeous, her hair was mangy, the dress looked more like an oversized T-shirt, she was bony and covered in filth. But that's not what Cosette saw in the mirror. 

She saw something lovely. 

A girl. 

That wasn't the only gift Fantine brought for her daughter. She rummaged through the bag until she felt the present under her palm. "Here." She clipped a pink barrette in Cosette's shaggy hair, something Cosette still had with her at all times. 

"Mama." She thumbed the clip curiously. "I'm pretty." 

She wasn't. Her eyes were too bug for her head, you could count her ribs through most of her ragged clothes, and she smelled. No onlooker would tell Fantine what a beautiful little girl she had, but Cosette felt it. Besides, if you don't feel beautiful, it doesn't matter how many people tell you that you are. It can't truly change how you feel inside. 

"I need a name. A girl one." 

Fantine smiled kindly at Cosette, her eyes batting. "Your father would've had it be Euphrasie. As for me, I like Cosette." 

"Me too." 

Three weeks later, Fantine would be dead, and no one would be there to call her Cosette. 

 

\---

 

Combeferre was always early to parties, usually by around five minutes just to see if he could help with any last minute set up. Also, he always brought extra snack foods and a stack of red solo cups to contribute to the snack table. It was just the polite thing to do, especially because he rarely hosted. 

When he did have people over, it was only the group and not labeled a party. The last time he hosted an actual party was a sleepover for Courfeyrac's fourteenth birthday surprise party. That was the night Courfeyrac officially came out as bisexual to the entire group. Most them either had suspicions or were already in the loop. Combeferre was the first person Courfeyrac had told. 

It had been just an average Saturday. Thirteen year old Combeferre and Courfeyrac had been playing Super Mario Bros from midnight until sunrise, their blood saturated with Mt. Dew when Combeferre mentioned something about Neil Patrick Harris. Courfeyrac took that as his opportunity to confess. 

Since then, Combeferre felt like Courfeyrac's go to secret keeper. 

"Alright Jehan, I think you have enough Halloween stuff out." Combeferre picked up a skull to study it.

"Huh? What are talking about? I haven't put out any Halloween decorations." That was the end of Combeferre's study. He dropped it back onto it's spot on the shelf. "Now, what do you think, Cards Against Humanity or Twister?"

"Cards Against Humanity." Just as Combeferre said that, the door bell rang, thus beginning the party. Over the course of ten minutes, Jehan's candle lit basement was filled with strangers. 

Jehan was very popular outside his main circle of friends, more so than any of the others. Unfortunately for Combeferre, no one from his group had bumped into him and Jehan had disappeared.

He wandered around aimlessly, trying to look like he wasn't aloe with his punch. He even went upstairs to the main level to get some space. Only, he forgot that this was Jehan's party, so naturally all corners of his house would be full of guests drinking and making noise. It wasn't like a calm basement party, it was a kegger.

The music was even louder upstairs. Some twat was blasting Robin Thicke while another stereo was playing Iggy Azelea. Both of these artists made Enjolras cringe, hopefully they'd be playing something better by the time he arrived.

As if on cue with Combeferre's train of thought and a musical flare, Enjolras burst through the door, making a dramatic entrance. The twat shut off both songs at the sight of him. 

Enjolras was dressed in the tightest, most revealing, Wonder Woman costume Combeferre had ever seen. What was even weirder was he was rocking it. Cosette even lent him a set of fake breasts to add to the illusion. He wasn't alone; he was flanked by Courfeyrac and Jehan. Jehan must have ran off to change and make an entrance with the cross-dressing cuties. 

Jehan was in a very sexualized version of Tinkerbell that was definitely his color. Though Jehan looked stunning, Courfeyrac stole the show. The skin tight fabric of his costume accentuated his every edge and left Combeferre gaping. Combeferre owed a debt of gratitude to who ever designed that french maid costume. 

They strutted inside, tailed by Marius, who was in a set of Harry Potter robes Courfeyrac wore the year before, and Cosette in a cute, brown Eskimo dress that cut off mid way down her thigh. Of course Cosette was radiant as ever, but she didn't even begin to compare to Courfeyrac.

He watched as Eponine whisked Courfeyrac away from Marius for a little chat. She looked serious, like she was telling them they needed to make a break for Canada immediately. Combeferre gravitated towards them slowly, picking up bits and pieces of their conversation.

"I'm not going to make him go back to a place he hates!" Courfeyrac was frustrated with her.

"We had a deal!"

"That was not a deal!" Courfeyrac squeeked. 

"Don't you want them to break up?" She hissed back. 

When Combeferre's tall shadow loomed over them, Eponine and Courfeyrac shut right up. Courfeyrac mumbled a good bye to Eponine and then changed demeanors at the sight of Combeferre's mouth hanging open. 

"You dropped your jaw." Courfeyrac joked, zapping Combeferre out of his trance. "What? Do I got something something on my face?"

"N-no." Combeferre cursed himself for stuttering in front of Courfeyrac.

"Oh, so I must just look cute tonight." Courfeyrac smirked, his hand stroking Combeferre's chest as Courfeyrac made a circle around him. 

"Yeah," Combeferre said breathily. "like the cutest one here."

"You must not have looked in a mirror lately." Combeferre felt like Marius the way he was blushing like a complete dope. He knew Courfeyrac was just having fun and that he didn't mean anything by what he was saying. This wasn't Courfeyrac flirting to seduce, this was an example of Courfeyrac flirting to practice for Marius. 

"So, do you think Marius is all flustered because of me or Cosette?" Just as Combeferre thought. Courfeyrac's tone shifted into something casually, mangling Combeferre's heart just a touch. 

"Not sure, the kid blushes a lot." Combeferre leaned against the wall and sipped his punch. 

"Either way, tonight is the night he's gonna fall for me; I can feel it." 

"Can you now?" Combeferre sighed and prepared for a long night about talking about his crush's crush.

 

\---

 

Halloween was dumb. Grantaire had always thought that way up until that night. As long as Halloween drove Enjolras to dress like that, it was the best freaking holiday ever. Seriously, Enjolras had boobs. What could possibly be hotter than Enjolras with boobs? 

While Enjolras was turning heads- which actually happened when he wasn't running around in the lingere he tried to pass off as a costume- Grantaire was slumped over on Jehan's couch with a cardboard sign hanging off his neck that had 'Nudist on strike' scrawled across it in sharpie, beer in hand. 

Some might say Grantaire's costume was lazy, but those people hadn't seen his costumes in years past. There was the shirt that said 'Costume', the bulky glasses and pretentious attitude that transformed him into a Hipster, Enjolras red hoodie he 'borrowed', and the year before a Starbucks frappé that made him a white girl. This year was pretty creative. 

"Look who we have here!" Grantaire swaggered over to Enjolras across the room. "I see you came as my biggest fantasy." That didn't impress Enjolras.

"I see you came as a drunk." He folded his arms over his full chest.

"Not uh!" He lifted his sign slightly. "Look it."

"Nudist on strike?" Enjolras read.

"Yeah! And if you're lucky, maybe I'll invite you back to my colony." Grantaire winked, slipping his arm over Enjolras' shoulders. He wriggled out from under Grantaire's malnourished arm. 

"Grantaire, I don't want to do this tonight. I'm not in the mood to fight you." Grantaire didn't like how he said it. Sometimes he feared that Enjolras thought he enjoyed fighting. Sure, Enjolras was hot when his nostrils flared and he got all passionate, but he hated that Enjolras' anger was caused by something idiotic he did.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Did you just apologize?" Enjolras asked, genuinely shocked. 

"Yeah. Why the tone of surprise?"

"That's just really mature of you. Thank you." Grantaire thought about taking that as an insult, but he just let it go instead. "Did you want to go back to the couch?" 

Instinctively, Grantaire took that to mean Enjolras wanted him out of his hair and started off with his head hung. Enjolras snagged Grantaire's arm. 

"With me. We could talk about feminism." He shrugged.

"Feminism?" Grantaire leered at Enjolras suspiciously. "You know this can only end in fighting."

"Debating." Enjolras seemed to be unsure why he was doing trying to hang out with Grantaire. The less sober of the two made a face. "Okay, you're right. We'll talk about-" 

"Each other." Grantaire suggested.

"That sounds-" Enjolras took Grantaire's hand cautiously. Nothing compared to the feeling of Enjolras' hand in his own; Grantaire finally understood the meaning behind the term 'Chicken Soup for the Soul.' 

"- Nice." 

Halloween was most definitely not dumb.

 

\---

 

"Like, I've got this thing for people wearing my clothes." Courfeyrac explained. 

Though Marius wasn't listening to their conversation, he knew that Combeferre had been listening to him nearly the entire night. 

"Is that right?" Combeferre downed another cup of punch.

Marius had been spending his time twirling some Halloween straw in his punch and watching people have fun around him. Socializing was exhausting for Marius, but he could handle observing a party from his calm bubble. It was a nice break from Cards Against Humanity.

"Hey, Pontmercy!" Grantaire hollered from the couch. For most of the night, Grantaire and Enjolras were sitting together on the couch just chatting away, and for a while, there was no issue. But it was inevitable that they'd start bickering about something dumb. 

Marius had been quietly observing them and it looked like Enjolras had hit his limit. 

"Yes?" Marius stood up and adjusted his robes. This party was going better than his first, but it wasn't as great as homecoming since Cosette was avoiding him again.

"Get me another beer?" He rattled his bottle. Enjolras rolled his eyes and yanked the bottle away.

"No, you're too drunk for your own good!"

"You 'on't know 'at!" He slurred.

Marius sensed a fight arousing, so he backed away slowly. Step by step, their voices faded into background noise, and Marius got further and further away. 

He thought he was in the clear, but when he whirled around, he came face to face with his love and worst fear: Cosette. 

"Baw!" Cosette jolted. "Oh, it's you." She sighed before trotting off.

"Wait!" Marius skated out in front of her. "I wanted to say I'm sorry I made you cry."

"It's not your fault." She waved him off, trying to get around him.

He gripped her shoulders to keep her there. "Then why did you cry?" It was a question that would've kept him tossing and turning at night if it weren't for Courfeyrac's sheltering arms around him. Still, even though he was sleeping soundly, Marius needed to know so he could fix their issues.

"Marius, it's a long story. I don't want to get into it in a crowded room when we don't have enough time." Again, she attempted to leave and Marius stopped her.

"Then let's go out, just us and talk about it." Marius had his best pleading eyes glued to Cosette. 

She hesitated, her teeth dragging across her glossy lips. Marius thought his offer was basically irresistible, but that was just because he wasn't used to being so smooth. It was definitely a big accomplishment for the kid. He would've taken appropriate time to revel in his little victory if Cosette's silence wasn't driving him crazy.

"Fine!" She pinched the bridged of her nose. "Friday, six o'clock, complete privacy."

He entered the details into his phone and set a reminder, but when he looked up to confirm, she was gone. 

I guess I'll see her Friday.


	16. Chapter 16

That Monday after school was another rehearsal for the school's production of the Little Mermaid. Progress had been made across the board. The Mer-sisters had their first song memorized, choreography and all, the chorus' rendition of Under the Sea was going swimmingly, and every member of the cast was trying their best. Sure, they weren't the most talented high schoolers on the planet, but at this rate the show would be tight and clean by the time they opened Decemeber 12th.

"Alright, my ambiguously gay teenagers, She's In Love is going well. Strap on your heelies ladies and practice in cafeteria. Kiss The Girl, you're up." Mr. Palmer was a great director, he was strict but he wasn't really aperfectionist. He looked at flaws as opportunities for improvinization. As long as the flaws weren't just poor acting.

Cosette and Courfeyrac climbed into the boat. The crew had worked very diligently on constructing the boat to maximum comfort and functionality. A few crew members wheeled them out to center stage. Courfeyrac rowed them along even though they used their feet to moved around. 

"You ready?" Cosette smiled at him. This was Cosette's favorite scene, mostly because she loved the song and the boy playing Sebastian had killer vocals. Graceful choreography was just a bonus.

"Yep!" Courfeyrac's grin seemed a little strained. Things between Courfeyrac and her seemed different, it was like he was guilty or something. Whatever it was, Cosette didn't like it. Her and Courfeyrac had been friends ever since he came over to hang out with Enjolras for the first time. 

The music started, and Cosette snapped into character. For some reason Courfeyrac wasn't as into it as usual, which didn't help Cosette's performance at all. They went on like that, weakly pretending to be in love. 

"Cut!" Mr. Palmer yelled. "Cut, cut, cut, cut!" He was on his feet, waving his script. The pit stopped playing, the chorus stopped dancing, and Sebastian stopped singing. 

"Is there something wrong?" One of the snobbier chorus members wobbled her head with narrowed eyes and arms crossed. 

"That!" Mr. Palmer pointed directly at Courfeyrac and Cosette. "There is no chemistry! No heat!" Cosette already knew that, but Courfeyrac seemed a bit shocked. "Where did your stupidly in love, horny teenager faces go? I loved those!" Courfeyrac opened his mouth and tried to explain, but Mr. Palmer waved then off. "Just take five!" He stormed off, obviously emotional. 

The whole stage was silent.

"Damn, we must really suck." Courfeyrac whispered before hopping out of the boat. "Wanna eat some low cal snacks?" He held out his arms to help Cosette out. 

She shrugged and took his hands. "Okay!" 

Eponine wheeled out from the wings on her heelies, trailed by Grantaire. They were cast as Flotsom and Jetsom so they were spending a lot more time together at rehearsals. "Hey!" Eponine circled Cosette once, then pounded her wheels into the heel to walk instead. 

"Oh hi, 'Ponine!" Cosette beamed. "Grantaire." She tipped her head at him. "We're going to get some low cal snacks. Wanna come?"

Like that was even a question! Eponine and Grantaire always hung out with Cosette and Courfeyrac during rehearsal. They went into the classroom they used as a greenroom and Courfeyrac dumped out a bunch of granola bars and fruit leather out of his backpack and onto the desk. 

"Dig in." Courfeyrac snagged a strip of tough fruit leather.

"Is it just me, or does booze sound better? Grantaire joked, pulling out a flask. 

"Grantaire, we're in school!" Cosette squeaked. 

"Your point?" He downed the flask in one, solid gulp. When it was gone he tipped it upside down and rattled it above his hand to collect any left over drops. 

The classroom was pretty empty with the Mer-sisters practicing elsewhere and most people breaking in the halls. It wasn't in use during the day so some of the costumes were being stored in there while they assigned everyone something to wear. There were only a few desks shoved against the walls and some chairs were kept their for when people were sewing. 

"So." Eponine began with a mouthful of granola. "What's up with you and Marius?" She nodded her head at Cosette.

Cosette wished Eponine didn't ask because she really didn't understand what was going on between them. They were scheduled to go on a date Friday where she planned to tell him everything, but that could be the end of their relationship, or it could just bring them closer and they could start dating for real. 

"Our first date didn't go so well." She reminded them. "But we're going out Friday." 

No one seemed satisfied with that answer. Grantaire didn't really care if she was dating Marius, however the other two appeared to be strongly opposed to her dating Marius for whatever reason. 

"Why would you go out with someone who took you on a sucky date?" Eponine wrinkled her nose at Cosette, judge mentally. 

"I really like Marius." Eponine and Courfeyrac cringed. "I think he deserves a second chance." 

Courfeyrac didn't like that, but, unlike Eponine, he kept it to himself. 

"Alright, so you guys are dating?" She asked. 

"I wouldn't say dating," Cosette said. "I have to make sure he knows what he's getting into before we make it official. I mean- he could get bullied if people knew about my situation." Everyone nodded, knowing exactly what she was talking about. 

"What you're saying is that if Marius was being bullied because you're dating, you'd have to break it off?" Eponine looked too smug. 

"Well, as of right now, there isn't anything to break off, but essentially, yes. I couldn't date him in good conscious knowing I was causing him any bullying. I know what it's like." 

Being bullied is rough, Cosette should know. Even though this was here first year of public school, Cosette was exposed to how cruel peers could be through Sunday school. She always thought church was supposed to be safe. 

Not only did she remember being constantly harassed and made fun of for wearing her pink barrette, she recalled one incident vividly. It was a memory that used to haunt her childhood.

It was the first day back to Sunday school from summer break and only her second year of attending the weekly class. She had opted out of Vacation Bible School, but her father was not letting her quit Sunday school. 

"Do I have to go, Papa?" Cosette had asked, verging in tears.

"Yes, Eugene. Don't worry, I'll be back for you in an hour." Valjean kissed her forehead before steering her into the classroom and waving goodbye. 

Class started without a hitch. No problems yet. In fact, Cosette was usually in the clear as long as she didn't say anything. Unfortunately, the Sunday school teacher, a bubbly woman in her late thirties tried her best to get everyone involved in class.

"Good morning, boys and girls!" She clasped her hands together to kick off the class. "Today, we're going to have a little fun. I was poking around on the internet and I found a lovely little skit for us to perform today to help us better understand Jesus Christ."

Some of the kids looked like they were about to pee themselves they were excited, some groaned, but Cosette was somewhere in the middle. She loved to perform, it was her passion to steal the spotlight, however she was really trying to fly under the radar that day. Performing a skit would draw a lot of attention to her. 

"First, we're going to need a boy to play Jesus." A few hands shot up, some more enthusiastic than others. The teacher picked a polite little boy sitting by himself for the role. 

"Now we need another boy to play Joseph." The same hands rose, the real jittery, jumping out their chair hyper kids were even more panicked. "Michael, why don't you play Joseph?" The snot nosed Michael sprung to his feet and joined the other boy at the front. 

"Last but not least, can I have a girl for Mary?" Nearly every girl volunteered, including Cosette. The teacher looked a bit confused. "Eugene? Why are you raising your hand? Mary is a girl part." 

All eyes locked on Cosette, and she could feel her self blushing. Kids were whispering about her, only adding to her embarrassment. 

"I am a girl." Cosette piped up. 

"Sweetie, no you're not!" The teacher said gently. "God made you a handsome young man and should be very glad he did."

"Yeah! Why can't you just be a boy?" One obnoxious boy taunted loudly. That triggered a chorus of snickers and unlocked new material for tormenting poor Cosette.

She would never forget that day, or how that boy made her feel, or the abuse that followed. There was no way she could pit Marius through that.

"Interesting." Eponine looked far to devious for her own good.

 

\---

 

Near the Splinter motel, in the shadiest intercity neighborhood, there was a house with no grass, broader up windows and grafitti covering the rotten siding. It was the nastiest house in the whole city, and was said to be home to a drug dealer because it always smelled like weed. Kids would dare each other to knock on the door and plot their adventures into the fabled drug dealers homes like they fell straight out of a coming of age novel. What they didn't know was the truth about that house.

The house was home to Grantaire. He lived there with his father. His mother had died years ago when he was in middle school. His mother was very sick most of her time on earth, and ended her life abruptly with suicide. There was a certain guilt Grantaire held concerning his mother's death. He felt guilty because he wasn't devastated by her death; he didn't cry at her funeral. He didn't even go. In fact, he was glad she was gone.

You see, Grantaire's mother was devout Catholic how took her religion to the extreme. When Grantaire was three, she tried to drown him in the bath because she was convinced he was possessed by the devil. Throughout his life, she was a burden to him and his father. After she died, part of Grantaire's problems at home left too.

The other part still remained, his father. Grantaire's dad wasn't just an unkind drunk who condoned his son's under aged drinking, he was abusive, both verbally and physically. Grantaire still didn't want him to keel over anytime soon, he still needed to get his name in the will.

Grantaire drove up onto the barren yard, nearly hitting a cat that scampered across his usual parking spot. As he put the car in park, it rocked back in the dirt, carving out even deeper ruts in the ground. Driving buzzed was one of Grantaire's specialties, walking while buzzed was a different story. He stumbled out of the car, nearly face planting twice. 

The lock on the door was totally busted so Grantaire never needed any keys. He just nudge the door open and tossed his army green, canvas satchel on the ripped armchair in the corner of the cluttered front room. His dad was in the other living room with his eyes glued to the TV as always. 

"Hey faggot!" Clearly Grantaire hadn't come in quietly enough and his dad heard him enter. "Make yourself useful 'n get me s'more beer!" 

It was only when Grantaire was home that he really understood why Enjolras hated seeing Grantaire nursing his flask. His father made him want to better himself in a twisted way. 

It was routine to obey without a fuss, so Grantaire quickly took his sketch pad and hurried along to the kitchen. Ants were crawling on the counters and it didn't faze Grantiare one bit. The letter magnets on the fridge were arranged to spell random profanities curtiousy of his dad, but three letters were spared to write EXR in the corner of the stacked freezer. Inside, food was spoiling and a few bugs were nesting in the open tub of butter. Grantaire wasn't surprised; he could smell the milk from the front door. 

He made a note that they were running low on his dad's favorite beer, and it was best if he kept the refrigerator stocked. His dad was less angry when he had the right beer in hand. Though he was craving alcohol, he took a bottle of green tea instead. Enjolras had been saying some pretty vulgar things about his drinking lately; it was time for a change. Maybe this time he'd finally quit for good. 

"Your beer." Grantaire handed him the bottle upon his arrival in the kitchen. 

"Took you long enough," he grumbled. Grantaire took that as a thank you and sat down on the chair next to him. "What's that? Green tea? What kind of pansy drinks green tea?"

He ignored him and took out his sketch book.

"You're still doing that coloring shit?"

"Drawing." He corrected. His father leaned over and stole a glance at what Grantaire was sketching

"What the hell are you drawing!" It was innocent enough to Grantaire. A detailed drawing of two men, bottom lips just barely scraping together, the men modeled after himself and Enjolras with appropriate shading for both of their hair. It was mostly just their heads, so there wasn't nudity, but any thing homosexual set Grantaire's father off. 

Before Grantaire could explain, his father was in his feet, yanking Grantaire off his chair violently. He ripped the drawing in half before he clobbered Grantaire. It wasn't clean fighting with fists swinging into jaws, it was more like aggressive hugging. That's how Grantaire liked to think of it. He liked to think his father loved him so much that he had to hug him until his ribs cracked. Of course that wasn't true. 

"I'm not raising a homo!" He smashed his empty beer bottle against Grantaire's head. 

"You're not raising me at all!" Grantaire growled, shoving his father off of him. "Sober up, you worthless piece of shit." He felt like he was talking to himself because in the end, his father was him. Just a few hundred cases in the future. That scared him more than anything.

Grantaire ran up stairs to his room to check out his wounds. Fortunately it wasn't too bad so he wouldn't have to break out the first aid kitchen again. But it still hurt. Inside and out. Not only was Grantaire being abused at home, he faced consistent bullying from his peers. It felt like the world was against him. Everyone hated him, but no one so much as himself. People tried to break him with their words, with their fists, but no one else was slicing at his wrists at night. 

Things were getting bad, his mind was reeling with awful thoughts that he couldn't stop. They just kept coming and he was afraid of what they might make him do. He had to get out. 

There was one person he was certain could make him feel better, but he wasn't allowed to be around Cosette. This was different though. It was an emergency. Besides, there had to be a way to get in without being seen by Enjolras or Valjean. 

 

\---

 

Eponine had the best idea ever, and she didn't even care how devious and diabolical it wa, as long as it worked and she didnt have to get her pretty little hands dirty. She could break Cosette and Marius up without sending him to military school or taking the blame. It was lucky that Cosette spoon-fed her a new solution since Courfeyrac was too attracted to Marius to kick him out. Now all she had to do was get someone to bully Marius. 

It couldn't be too hard. Marius was a nerdy little kid with poor social skills, and dating a trangender was just icing on the cake really. If Montparnasse went to school more regularly, he'd already be teasing Marius. 

Unfortunately, Cosette wasn't open about her gender, so no bullies were aware of the golden opportunity Marius presented by pursuing a relationship with Cosette. But from what Cosette had been saying lately, it seemed she wanted to make a statement and be open at school after she told Marius. She wanted to be a role model for other trans kids at school. 

Once Cosette made her little secret public, the bullies might need a little nudge, but soon enough Marius could kiss his relationship with Cosette goodbye.

God, was it a good idea.

 

  
\---

 

Enjolras was never good about going to bed at a decent hour. Usually, he stayed up typing a speech or watching YouTube videos about social activism. Sometimes his mouse even strayed over to Tumblr, something he always ended up regretting because of all the bloggers who thought they knew what they were text posting about.

That night, he managed to log off his laptop a little before three in the morning which allowed him a solid three and a half hours of sleep. He owed it all to Combeferre's automated text message reminding him to get some sleep before school. Combeferre used to text him every night at around 11:30pm before he pried himself away from his screen to get some shut eye. When he found out that Enjolras needed reminders later into the night (or morning) he set up his phone to text Enjolras on its own at 2:30am. So far they had been working pretty well.

He was nearly asleep when he heard it.

Ping!

A knock on his window, just loud enough to startle him, but not loud enough for him to think anything of it. Enjolras closed his eyes, turned over and tried to drift off. This sound was not going to prevent him from squeezing in those three hours of sleep he so desperately needed. It was probably just a really big bug or something ramming into the glass.

Ping!

The sound came back. A little louder this time, but still not concerning Enjolras. He unwedged the pillow from under his head and used it to muffle the reoccurring noise. It probably wasn't a bug since it happened twice, maybe it was raining!

Ping!

Again, the knock was back. Except, Enjolras had now decided it was less of a knock and more of something being thrown at the window. Pebbles, perhaps? Regardless of what the sound was, Enjolras paid it no mind. He needed sleep. It was probably just- the house setting! The house was setting. Enjolras never actually understood what people meant when they said that, maybe no one know what that meant and they just said it to make themselves feel better about strange sounds. 

For a while, it was silent. Enjolras was sure the house was down setting for the night. A content smile stretched across his face as he nuzzled into his blankets. 

Ping!

That tore it. Enjolras huffed and kicked his blankets off. He didn't even try to be quiet as he stomped over to the window. In one swift motion, he throw up the shade and ripped the window open. A pebble flew up and hit him square one the face that immediately scrunched up on impact. When his face did un-scrunch and he got a good look at the source of the noise, Enjolras was stunned. 

There he was. 

Grantaire.

"Grantaire! What the hell are you doing? You aren't allowed-" Enjolras stopped. Something horrible had happened to Grantaire, otherwise he wouldn't have been standing there with his sketch book open to a page that simply read: help. 

There was no hesitation. Enjolras rushed down the stairs and out the door to Grantaire. The artist looked about ready to book it when he saw Enjolras burst through the door, but he wasn't going to let Grantaire leave if he needed help. 

Enjolras lunged out and wrapped his arms around Grantaire, squishing the sign between them. 

"I'm sorry." Grantaire was all choked up. "I thought that was Cosette's window. I'll just go." But Enjolras wouldn't let him go that easy. 

"No, you're coming inside and we're talking," he said against Grantaire's neck. He took Grantaire by the hand and tugged him inside. Seeing that it was three in the morning, Enjolras tiptoed along, hushing Grantaire as they ventured up the stairs. If they were caught, Enjolras was screwed.

He slowly eased the door open and then guided Grantaire inside. 

"Sit." Enjolras climbed onto his bed and patted the spot beside him. At first, Grantaire hesitated, he even turned to the door. "Grantaire," he said warningly. "You're not leaving until you feel better." 

"I feel better!" He lied. "Can I go now?" 

"Nope. Sit." Grantaire looked ready to break down, his lips were pursed and he couldn't stop pacing. He ran his fingers through his raven curls, trying to keep his breathing steady. 

"Hey." Enjolras leaped over to Grantaire and put his palms on Grantaire's stubbly cheeks. "Look at me." Grantaire did. "I want to help you. We're not going to fight, okay?" Of course, Enjolras wasn't sure how much truth was in that statement. There was no way of knowing if he and Grantaire were going to have an argument.

The panting died in Grantaire's mouth. "Okay."

"Do you want to sit down?" With a nod, Grantaire let Enjolras lead him over to the bed and they both settled on the mattress cross-legged. 

It was so foregin to have Grantaire sitting there, tears gathering his eyes. Friends of Enjolras had told him Grantaire was a bit of an emotional wreck and was prone to wandering over to people's houses in the middle of the night whilst drunk in search of comfort. No one minded it. They all knew Grantaire had a rough home life and needed all the affection he could get. It made him wonder why Grantaire never came Enjolras forsome extra care. He had said so himself: they were not friends. 

"You came here to talk?" Enjolras prodded.

"Yeah," Grantaire muttered. He didn't appear to be drunk, the little he said was spoke with decent diction for a mumbler, which was a plus for Enjolras. It was generally the alcohol coursing through Grantaire's system that got them yelling at each other. Maybe they really wouldn't fight. But Enjolras didn't want to get too hopeful just yet.

"I take it things aren't going well with you?" Enjolras' hand cautiously grasped Grantaire's which was resting on his torn jeans. Grantaire's eyes flickered to their joined hands and looked away instantly, as if he had walked in on someone changing.

"No, not really." He sniffled. It was a bit frustrating that Grantaire wasn't opening up right away. That was another one of their issues. Enjolras yearned for change, reform and that carried over for his friends. Plus, he saw so much potential and light trapped in Grantaire, it was such a shame to see it go to waste.

"Grantaire," he said softly. "This is a safe place. I'm not gonna yell. I just want to help." 

Grantaire bobbed his head for a little too long. It worried Enjolras to the point of trying to coach him again, but all the sudden, Grantaire erupted. "It's fucked! Everything is fucked! My dad, the punk ass kids, me, society! I hate everyone and everything. I feel so alone all the time! Does anyone even care? Does anyone give one flying fuck that I'm dying inside? That every part of me feels numb and on fire at the same time? That my dad beats me, that the kids at school beat me, that I beat me?" He flashed his scarred wrist. "Does anyone even notice me slipping?" Grantaire was sobbing into his hands and Enjolras was for once, at a loss for words. 

"I'm disappointed that I wake up every morning. I cringe when I hear my heart beat. I want to disappear. No blood, no mess, no trace of me ever being here." 

The only sound for a long moment between them was Grantaire weeping in to his hands. Enjolras felt so guilty that he couldn't find the words to stop the crying, no matter how much it hurt to see him like this. 

"Grantaire." He began in a hushed voice. "Why do you hate yourself?" Since Enjolras never actually hated himself, he wasn't sure how appropriate this question was. Still, he asked him anyways.

A deranged sort of cackle came out of Grantaire. "Why wouldn't I?" He went hysterical. "I mean, honestly, I don't see anything of value in me." 

That stung. Enjolras could hear his own voice spitting that at Grantaire. It made him nauseous. 

"Grantaire, you are so-"

"Useless! I mean, I'm such a screw up. There is nothing good about me!" His pace quickened, got more intense. "I mean I used to like me, even when no one else seemed to, but now it's like whatever I liked about me, whatever good I saw, that spark in me, has died out." Enjolras knew exactly what Grantaire was talking about. He had watch the cynic's light flicker too, and it killed him.

"I hate myself! I'm ugly, I'm too skinny, no actually likes me, I'm too loud, I'm bisexual-" Grantaire shut right up and covered his mouth with his hand. Apparently, Grantaire thought he had gone too far. Enjolras didn't think so. 

"Shit! Please, pretend you didn't hear that!" He waved his hands frantically at Enjolras, who still wasn't seeing why this was a big deal. He already knew Grantaire was attracted to men and it never bothered him. 

"I never wanted you to know! I promise I'm straight and I just flirt with you to be an ass."

Wait!

Did Grantaire like him? Was his desperate need for attention actually flirting? Why was that such a relief? What was this feeling? He always just assumed the passionate feelings he had toward Grantaire had to be some form of hate. This was not hate. It's like all this time he knew, but couldn't cope with it. Instead he pushed it away, decided love was a scam to keep the human race from going extinct. That's why Grantaire frustrated him, because he didn't understand his feelings for him were actually love!

"I don't like you like that! Please don't t-" 

Out of no where, Enjolras dove forward onto his lips and kissed him quiet, his hands firmly planted on Grantaire's thighs. Grantaire tensed at the advancement, but as soon as he felt Enjolras's timid tongue slipping in his mouth, he relaxed and began carding through Enjolras' luscious golden curls. It was heated, fast, and a total release of years of suppressed feelings and sexual frustration. 

"That's really too bad." Enjolras rasped between kisses. "Because I like you like that."


	17. Chapter 17

As Cosette lathered shampoo into her long hair, blonde hair, something hit her. There was still hot water gushing from the shower head. Enjolras hadn't hogged all the hot water. In fact, Cosette hadn't seen Enjolras at all that morning. Usually they crossed paths during their morning routines, but sometimes Enjolras pressed the snooze button one too many times. 

It wasn't that she was complaining she got in the shower before him, it was just bizarre that she didn't have to pound on the door while he sang an encore performance of some God awful Top 40 hit. Enjolras always rolled out of bed before her. It was just a little unsettling.

She briskly finished up her shower so she could investigate. When the water shut off, the house was still. Enjolras wasn't down stairs with their father, or rummaging through his dresser. A towel wrapped around her wet hair and another tied under her arm to cover her soaked skin, Cosette hopped out of the bathroom, steam billowing from the shower.

"Enjolras?" She called curiously. His bedroom door was closed; he hadn't left his bedroom yet. At first, she rapped gently on the door. "Enjolras? Is your alarm-" What she saw when she opened the door sent shock waves through her whole body.

Enjolras was asleep, and not alone. Next to him- or rather snuggling him- was Grantaire. And they were both smiling! Not the relaxed grins that sometimes occupy a face when a person isn't frowning, but big, beaming smiles overtaking Enjolras' and Grantaire's their entire face. This was just to good to be true.

They were both fully clothed as far as Cosette could see, so it appeared it That they just shared an innocent night of cuddling. None of their friends were going to believe they didn't hook up though. Especially not Courfeyrac. But that boy liked to think everyone was secretly banging.

Cosette kept quiet and whipped out her iPhone. Snap chat was calling her name. Enjolras couldn't get mad at her for snapping a quick picture of them nuzzled up against each other and sending it to all their mutual friends when it only lasted a few seconds. Of course, Courfeyrac wouldn't hesitate to screen shot it.

After slapping a filter on the picture to make them look even more serene, Cosette trotted off with a bad case of the giggles. 

 

\---

 

Enjolras woke up with the sun that morning. His alarm failed to wake him and Combeferre's morning texts didn't tempt him to leave Grantaire's embrace. Being the little spoon was officially Enjolras' favorite thing- besides, you know, destroying the patriarchy. 

He turned over in Grantaire's arms to look at him. It bewildered Enjolras that Grantaire could believe he wasn't beautiful. Bruised, pale skin stretched across bones that jutted out creating ripples on his abdomen. Unruly raven spirals that were even softer than they looked, sprouted on his scalp. He missed the icy blue eyes that took shelter under thick lashes and delicate lids as Grantaire slept. Enjolras was certain he had never met anyone so gorgeous. 

"G'morning," Grantaire said grogily. Those rapturously eyes fluttered open as Grantaire stretched out his arms. 

"Good morning to you." Enjolras couldn't fight the grin that crept on his face. Kissing Grantaire last night was probably the most exhilarating thing he had ever done, and cuddling him was heavenly. It had been a good couple of hours for Enjolras. However, he still had a question for Grantaire. 

"Can I ask you something?" Enjolras scooted closer to Grantaire.

"Shot." Grantaire prompted.

"Okay, y'know how we were talking last night?" 

"I recall, yes." Grantaire chuckled at Enjolras. His laugh soothed Enjolras a little, just enough to persevere through the conversation. 

"And how you were admitting things?" Grantaire seemed puzzled, like he didn't know where this was going.

"Yeah, I was there." He quipped.

"And you sort of freaked out when you said that you're bisexual?" Enjolras' face was all wrinkled up, as if expecting Grantaire to blow up at him.

"I guess so." Grantaire shifted uncomfortably under the sheets.

"Could we talk about that?" The last thing Enjolras wanted to do was pressure Grantaire into a discussion that he didn't want to have. More so than ever now. After all, Enjolras sort of assumed they were dating and if that was true, their relationship was too fragile for Enjolras to force Grantaire to talk about things that made np him uncomftable.

"Yeah, if you want." Grantaire shrugged. 

Inhaling a gulp of air, and then exhaling, Enjolras eased himself into the difficult question. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

The smirk Grantaire offered was any consolation. "I didn't want you to think I had the hots for you."

"But you always act like you do. You flirt with me and make a pest of yourself, but you don't want me to know you care?" Enjolras was never a lobpve expert, and he never pretended to be, but something just wasn't adding up.

"I didn't know you'd react so well." He leered at Enjolras before trying to sneak in a kiss that Enjolras turned away from. 

"Seriously, Grantaire." Enjolras warned.

"Seriously? Seriously, I didn't want you to hate me anymore than I thought you already did. Seriously, I wanted you to believe that I was just joking. Seriously, I didn't want you to get suspicious that I love you. Seriously, I couldn't cope with you rejecting me in seriousness so I never gave you that chance." 

Enjolras hated that Grantaire had always used humor as a defensive mechanism, but when he was serious, Enjolras hated himself. He had hurt Grantaire, someone who loved him, someone who would follow him blindly where ever he may lead him. The way Grantaire saw him was awful. For now. 

"Do you think I'm heartless?" Enjolras whimpered.

"Enjolras, don't-" 

"Do you think I'm heartless?" He repeated louder. 

Grantaire sat up and looked directly through Enjolras' eyes into his soul. "No. I deserved everything you did to me and more. I understand that you gave up on me, I would have too. You are not heartless. You are the most passionate person I know. You care so much, so much, Enjolras that sometimes you get a little intense, but you are not heartless. Your heart beats twice as strongly as anyone's."

That was all Enjolras had ever needed to hear. Maybe he and Grantaire should have gotten together sooner. Just as Enjolras was about to roll back over and doze off, the clock caught his eye. 

7:30am

"Shit!" Enjolras jumped out bed.

"What?" Grantaire's brow furrowed. 

"It's seven thirty!" Enjolras wiggled out of his clothes and switched them for the outfit he had laid out the night before. "I'm supposed to be in the car right now!" 

"Damn!" Grantaire crawled out of bed. "Can I get a ride?"

At first, Enjolras was glad to drive Grantaire to school and then he realized that would blow their little secret. "I would, but Cosette and my Dad can't know you slept over. You can't even go out the front door." Enjolras had no qualms about changing in front of people usually since he believed that his body was just a body and it was only weird when sexualized. But now that he might be dating Grantaire, showing off his body made him a bit nervous, even if it was what society deemed attractive. It just seemed inappropriate. Regardless, he had to get out of those pajamas.

"How am I supposed to get out of here?"

"Good question," he said breathily. "The window!" Enjolras exclaimed. 

"How the hell am I-"

"There's a trellis!" Enjolras threw open the window. That seemed to appease Grantaire.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" Grantaire teased, clamouring out the window. "I knew you and Combeferre seemed awfully close." He booped Enjolras on the nose sweetly. 

"Shut up." Enjolras reached to shove him, but remembered that Grantaire was just barely clinging onto the trellis on the side of his house. For some reason, neither felt right about leaving the other like that. Enjolras wasn't going to let Grantaire leave without a kiss. If only he knew how to ask.

"Um, so you're gonna go." Enjolras pursed his lips, stretched out his arms a bit and looked around, avoiding Grantaire's breathtaking eyes. 

"Yup." Grantaire began his descent. 

"Wait!" Enjolras reached out for him. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just kiss him. Part of him wanted to believe it was because he needed consent, but he knew he was just to scared. Grantaire scaled back up to the window, rolling his eyes.

"Enjolras, we have school- wait. You want to kiss me don't you?" Grantaire bantered smugly.

"Am I really that transparent?" Enjolras knew he looked distressed until Grantaire leaned forward and gave a kiss to tide him over until they could make out again.

"Can I go now?"

Enjolras couldn't even speak. He just oogled and nodded carefully. That seemed to please Grantaire.

 

\---

 

"You what?!" Courfeyrac had officially lost it. After he got that snap from Cosette he couldn't wait to get his hands on Grantaire and Enjolras. They deserved to get beat on a bit for not telling him immediately. 

At lunch, Courfeyrac unloaded on them, Combeferre and Marius trying in vain to get him to settle down. Enjolras couldn't help but blame Cosette for this. When he got to school- with time to spare, thank you very much- Combeferre warned Enjolras that Cosette had sent out a damning snap and Courfeyrac was berserk.

"Courfeyrac, it's not a big deal!" Grantaire said for the hundredth time. 

"It's not a big deal?!" Courfeyrac's eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open. "Two of my best friends have sex-" 

Even though Enjolras was adamant on the fact that there was no sex, but for some reason the message wasn't getting through. "It was just kissing, Courfeyrac." Enjolras sighed, thumbing at the straw in his canned V-8.

"Sure!" Courfeyrac scoffed. "Just like the declaration of independence was just kissing!"

"That doesn't even make sense." Grantaire was beginning to question his sobriety. Something was very off, even for Courfeyrac. 

"I just can't believe I found out like this!" Courfeyrac bite his lip to stop the tears and flashed them his phone as evidence.

"Whoa!" Grantaire flinched away, and Enjolras nearly spat out his juice. Everyone was absolutely stunned. Joly shielded his eyes by burying his face in Bossuet's chest. Next to Courfeyrac, Jehan leaned over to sneak a peek at the scandalous picture and nodded approvingly 

"I know!" Courfeyrac squealed.

"Courfeyrac, that's not us." Enjolras tried to be gentle. "That's you. All of you."

Both Combeferre and Marius blushed bright red when Courfeyrac flipped it around and switched it to the screenshot of the snap Cosette sent. They caught a glimpse of one of Courfeyrac's nudes, and he was not ugly.

"Ha!" Courfeyrac turned the screen back to them. Suddenly Courfeyrac's wide eyes filled with tears. "It's just so hard, and I can't even! My OTP got together and they didn't even tell me!"

Combeferre sighed. "C'mon, Courfeyrac. Let's go to the counsoler." Combeferre wrestled Courfeyrac off his seat with great difficult consider Courfeyrac was so much smaller than him. "Sorry guys, Tumblr ruined him." 

 

\---

 

It was late when Eponine got home. Rehearsal had ran over yet again, she went over to Cosette's to expirement with stage make up for a few hours and she had to walk all the way home. By the time she flopped down on her bed, it was nearly ten and she still had business to attend to. 

On top of the chores she planned on half-assing, Eponine promised herself she would line up a jerk to pick on Marius after Cosette came out. Initially, she was going to find some prick after school, but then Cosette whisked her off to rehearsal before she could track down anyone. She wanted to get it done today, but she didn't want to have to leave the motel. 

Just then, her solution came through her bedroom door. "Knock, knock!" Montparnasse sneered. "Did you miss me while you were at school?" 

Eponine straightened up. "'Parnasse?" The greasy boy in leather sat down beside her with a simper. She had to hand it to him, even though he made her teeth ache, Montparnasse had style. For as poor as he was, Montparnasse always looked like he popped off the cover of some punk fashion magazine. This was the first time Eponine was glad she had a live in douche bag. 

"That's me." 

Eponine scooted closer to him, seductively stroking his leather clad arm. "How do you feel about making a deal?" She said, her voice husky.

"What kind of deal?" He matched her purring tone while his hand grazed her thigh.

This was going to kill Azelma, Eponine knew that, but she took a deep breath and accepted that she needed to do this. If she ever wanted to be with Cosette she had to break her and Marius up. Montparnasse was her ticket to ending their relationship. Maybe she would have to do something that would hurt Azelma, and maybe she wouldn't forgive her for a while, but Montparnasse was bad news for Azelma anyways. It was only a matter of time before Montparnasse got bored of Azelma and broke it off anyways.

"All I need you to do is harass that Marius boy a bit, and make sure his little girlfriends sees you." There wasn't an inch between their lips. Eponine was moving her mouth like she would if they were kissing, her voice was a pant. 

"And what do I get in return?" Montparnasse's fingers caressed her hips as he soaked in her eager body. She took those practiced fingers and pressed them against her chest.

"Anything you want."


	18. Chapter 18

If only Marius knew what this was doing to Courfeyrac. As Marius checked out his outfit nervously in the mirror, Courfeyrac could feel his heart being wrung. The way Marius' body fit in Courfeyrac's clothes, and how the pants were too short and tight, was laughable to most, but Courfeyrac thought it was pretty damn hot. 

"Courfeyrac, I can't go out like this." Marius looked a little green in his reflection. Though Courfeyrac could sit through Marius stripping again, he was fond of Marius scrunched up in his clothes.

"Course you can!" Courfeyrac hopped off his bed and hugged him from behind. "You could go out in a onesie and still be a ten." The made flustered look that spread across Marius face was something Courfeyrac treasured. 

Ever since they had moved in to the same room, Courfeyrac and Marius had become very close. Courfeyrac liked to call them intimate friends, since he slapped the lable 'best friend' on so many people that the word had lost most of it's meaning. Cuddling was becoming an every night occurance that neither of them could resist. It was no secret that Marius craved the affection he was deprived of through out his childhood and that Courfeyrac loved feeling close to people.

The only problem with them becoming so buddy-buddy was that it made Courfeyrac too hopeful for their dynamic to shift into something a bit more romantic. There was a possiblity that something like that could happen, but as of that moment, Marius was pretty enthralled with Cosette. That cause a lot of suffering for Courfeyrac. Loving someone who does not love you in return is one thing. Watching the one you love loving someone else is another. 

"Unfortunately, I don't see what you see." Marius turned his head so that their noses were rubbing against each other, nearly kissing. "I think I'll wear my own clothes, thank you." Wriggling out of his arms, Marius knelt beside his duffle bag and fished out his best outfit. Cardigans were becoming more and more attractive to him, Courfeyrac had clearly influenced his style as the curly haired boy only wore cardigans or button-ups with suspenders.

Courfeyrac went back to his bed. "Maybe you need to get your eyes checked, Marius," he said sweetly. 

"You're so good to me." Marius chuckled as he rummaged through his duffle bag for appropriate shoes. There was a long moment where neither of them spoke, but it wasn't an awkward prolonged silence, rather something comfortable and companionable. 

"Do you really have to go tonight?" Courfeyrac finally asked. He wasn't sure if Marius knew that he had a major crush on him. It wouldn't surprise Courfeyrac if he did, nor would it if he didn't. Marius could be quite thick, however some of the hint Courfeyrac had unknowingly dropped and the advances he had instinctively made were pretty hard to miss. 

At first Marius carried on with his business, thinking Courfeyrac had rolled over on his bed and was joking upside down like he normally would, then he looked over and saw Courfeyrac looked really upset. "Courfeyrac." Marius was very empathetic towards Courfeyrac, and his face showed it. 

"We could watch the Dr. Sherlock thing you like, or go get cupcakes downtown, or maybe-" Courfeyrac sensed emotions bubbling up inside of him; he fought them off.

"It's Dr. Who and Sherlock. Two different things." He explained with a sigh as he slumped down beside him. "And I already made plans with Cosette. Maybe tomorrow!" He teetered over to give Courfeyrac a little side hug.

"Can't you just cancel?" Courfeyrac whined.

"No, Cosette and I really need to talk. If I cancel, we might never be boyfriend/girlfriend!" Clearly, Marius was oblivious of how much Courfeyrac loved him, and how that passion went beyond comradory. No one would talk about their crush so dreamily in the presence of a friend who they knew liked them. No one who was a real friend. Marius was most definitely a real friend. Just a spacey friend. Spacey didn't mean he didn't care though.

"Fine!" Courfeyrac resigned. "You go have your fun! I'll stay here and watch Orange is the New Black." Pouting, Courfeyrac toppled onto Marius lap. Marius comforted him by fingering through his curly mop of dark hair, setting a cage of feverish butterflies loose in his stomach.

"I'll wake you up when I get back-"

"I'll be up. Cosette's curfew is pretty early." He interjected.

"And I'll tell you all about my date." That didn't sound appealing in the least, yet when Marius asked Courfeyrac if he was up for that, he nodded with a tepid smile that didn't have the vigor to reach his dejected eyes.

 

\---

 

For this date, Marius wasn't allowed to pick her up at her house. Something about her dad being home and her not willing to get him all worked up over one, silly date. Marius didn't like that Cosette wasn't taking this date as seriously as he was, but he was just glad she had agreed to go out with him that night. 

They had planned for Marius to pick her up at the motel Eponine tried to pass off as a home. Apparently, Cosette wouldn't have to face any questions if she was just going there. What her dad didn't know was that Eponine's wasn't the finally destination. Just a mere pit stop on her way to a date Marius thought was very important. 

Before Marius could stumble out of the car, Cosette was walking out the front door with Eponine at her heels. Though Marius couldn't hear their conversation, or understand Eponine's pleading body language, he could make the connect between how Courfeyrac looked not ten minutes ago, and Eponine's disappointed expression just then. Maybe it was a best friend thing. 

Marius vaulted out of the car with as little grace as ever. "H-hi." Marius stuttered, soaking in Cosette's beauty. She was dressed in a simple, mustard yellow dress with capped sleeves hidden under a wool cardigan. The dress was relatively short for the weather, so Cosette paired it with some tights. The bottom half flared out elegantly and had a strip of tan fabric at the bottom. Her shape was defined with the help of a belt with a bow that matched the layer of tan. She was breath taking.

"Hey." She looked nervous, which confused Marius. She had no reason to be anxious. 

Marius popped open the passenger door courteously. "I have the perfect place for us to talk." Marius assisted her into the car like the gentleman his grandfather didn't raise him to be, and then circled the pick up he was borrowing from Courfeyrac- who never used his pick up because Vespa was his favorite mode of transportation- to his seat behind the wheel. 

Cosette didn't ask any questions about where they were going or strike up lighthearted chitchat on the way, it was as if she was too abashed to even carry a conversation with Marius. Of course, Marius couldn't blame her- he had never been one to initiate small chat either. The whole ride, Cosette was fidgeting. Whether it be picking at her dress or combing her hair with her shaky fingers, Cosette had to channel her jitters. 

"You okay?" Marius inquired after clearing his throat.

"Mmhm." She lied, her face pure white. Marius thought about bringing her home right then and there, but he wanted to talk too much. What you may call selfish, Marius called being in love. 

It wasn't a terribly long drive, just down the block to a ripped down section of a barbed wire fence. Marius drove the truck through the opening into a wheat field. They both knew that field, Marius just didn't know that yet. That made Cosette even more nervous. 

See, he wanted to take her somewhere secluded, where no strangers would listen and make her back out, and also, somewhere beautiful. Somewhere that could be seen as romantic with being tacky or overdone. After a week of planning the perfect destination instead if sleeping, Marius thought of the perfect place. 

Somewhere in the middle of the field, where there was no chance of their conversation being disrupted, Marius shifted the truck into park. The beat up engine moaned to a complete halt. 

"Marius?" Cosette stared out the window, scrutinizing his choice of a date location. "I'm not sure how comfortable I am being here. Y'know, with you. Alone. Without any witnesses."

A blotchy pink glow lit up Marius' face. "Uh- I-um. I'm not gonna- I wouldn't-" Marius took a deep breath. "I promise that I'm not going to- well, you know."

Unlike his horny teenage friends, Marius wasn't exactly interested in sex. At least not until he established a strong, emotional bond with someone. That didn't mean no pre-marital sex, but it did mean one-night-stands not being something he desires. Though he had admired Cosette from afar for a while and they had even shared a few romantic moments, Marius didn't consider them to be very connected. At least not enough to make him sexually attracted to her. He could only think of one very special person he felt close enough to even consider being so intimate with.

"Just come outside." Marius twisted the key out and pushed the door open. "I think we should- um- get started on that talk, maybe?" Marius could sense Cosette's anxiety, which meant she must be pretty fretful because he was never good at picking up the feelings of others. Her imbalance was rubbing off on Marius, hindering his ability to be less of mess than he already was.

"Yeah." Cosette breathed out slowly and hopped out of the car. With a nervous smile, Marius followed her to the bed of the pick up truck. Marius pulled down the tailgate cautiously, springing back when it flopped down too fast. 

"Ladies first." Marius chivalrously gestured to the flat tailgate. Reserved, Cosette took Marius hand as she gracefully sat down, smoothing her skirt once she got comfortable. Well as comfortable as she could be given how tense she was acting.

It was admirable that Marius was trying to remain clam and putting Cosette's well-being first even though he was itching to know exactly what Cosette had been too scared to tell him at the party. The reason why Cosette had been crying that night had been eating him alive, and he couldn'tnhelp but believe it was the same reason she was so hesitant on getting close to him in the first place.

"So." He slid onto the tailgate next to Cosette. The distance between the nearly hyperventilating Cosette and Marius made them appear purely platonic, no feelings, just friends. As great as friendship was, Cosette and Marius knew there was potential for more between them. "You wanted to tell me why you cried on our first date?"

She nodded. "Yeah. We should probably talk about that." 

Marius didn't pressure her. After he stated what he wanted out of this meeting, what Cosette had promised to tell him, he just let her have the final say. He allowed her all the time she needed to calm down enough to spill her secrets. Anticipation was mounting in Marius, but Cosette wasn't looking as eager. 

"Have you ever been to a drag show?" Cosette blurted out. The question was abrupt to Marius,so he assumed it was just a subject change.

"Um. No, actually. I haven't." Marius shifted awkwardly. "My grandfather would never let me near drag queens. Something about the bible." For some reason, that really upset Cosette, and Marius bubbled up with concern. "It's not that there's anything wrong with- it's just- Mathew 19:12- and uh- please just change the subject!"

"I thought you wanted to know why I cried, and ultimately, why I'm afraid of having a relationship with you." Cosette didn't look Marius in the eye when he whirled around to gape at her. 

Was Cosette what he thought she was?

"You're a-"

"I'm not a drag queen." Cosette interjected, squinting her eyes shut until they leaked silvery tears. "I'm- Marius, I'm gonna tell you a story." Urging her on, Marius nodded quickly. "A story about a little girl who could have been so happy, if someone- anyone- just let her believe she was a girl, and the sweet, sweet boy, who she owes so much to, that never questioned her, never made her be the boy everyone else saw. The little boy who didn't understand, eho didn't even know, but cared."

As much as Marius wanted to say something to stop her from crying, he kept quiet with an ernst sympathetic look on his face. "This girl lived with people who treated her like she was nothing. They would beat her, and force her to do chores too difficult for the average preschooler. But what was worse, is that they'd call her a boy. And no matter what she did, they didn't believe she was a girl. Then there was the little Indian boy who lived across the street."

Marius heart sank. This was the conservative side of Washington, the side full of bible-thumping, white Republicans. There were very few people tanner than a coconut in town, and Marius was one of them. 

"He was the kindest boy she had ever met. He was the only one who didn't look at her funny when she insisted on being the mommy when they played house. They went on adventures, and talked about nothing important, and the little girl, who always wore a pink barrette-"

There was no doubt in Marius' mind that he knew this little girl.

"Was in love with him. And one day, I- the little girl, I mean- left with an old man. A few months ago, this little girl met the little boy again, except he doesn't recognize her. Now, the little girl isn't sure if she wants him to know, but she knows she cares about him very much." Cosette reached out and took Marius hand. "And hopefully, he will understand."

He wanted to hid the shock on his face so that Cosette wouldn't misinterpret it as anything negative. In all honesty, Marius had never knowningly met a trans person, and wasn't sure what to say.   
"You're the little girl." He rasped. "You were Eugene, weren't you?" 

Cosette couldn't muster words, she just burst out sobbing and bobbing her hapead up and down while she lunged forward to hug Marius for comfort. "I am so sorry I let you have feelings for me. You must be disgusted and-" 

Suddenly, Marius hushed Cosette as he stroked her smooth blonde hair. "It's okay." He cooed sincerely. "You're the same person you were five minutes ago. I still feel the same way."

She wiped away a tear dripping down her flushed cheek. "Marius, if you're just saying this to be nice, you're not doing me a favor. Don't be a hero. I want you to be happy, that's all I want."

All his life, Marius had been to kind to break someone's heart, but in this instance, he didn't feel like he was pitying Cosette by still wanting her. He legitimately liked her. Nothing had changed. 

"You have to understand, I didn't fall for you because of what parts you had. I fell in love with because of this heart." He hesitantly closed a fist over her heart. Swelling with emotion, Cosette grasped the fist and looked at him with love and admiration pouring out of her watery, blue eyes. Her lips pressed against his for a brief, heated kiss. They

For a long moment, the two sat there in a perfect trance, just gazing into each other's eyes lovingly. Cosette was perfect. Nothing could change that. Even if Marius didn't exactly understand, he was going to. Understanding and acceptance go hand in hand. You can never fully accept and love someone unless you fully understand them.

Marius laid back in the bed of the pickup, resting his head on his clasped hands and let out a sigh. No matter how many times he ran through scenerios in his head, Marius couldn't imagine that night going any better. Cosette scooted back and joined Marius in a laying position that caused her hair to sprawl out around her. 

"So." Marius began casually. "What do I need to know?"

"What do you mean?" Cosette asked, gathering her hair into a loose side pony.

"Don't you want to talk about it? I mean, I don't have any questions, and I wouldn't want to ask anything offensive, so if you're up to it, maybe you could tell me more. You don't have to though!" Marius scrambled a bit at the end, even sat up and waved his hands for emphasis. Cosette smiled gently at Marius and nudged him back against the cool truck. 

"It's okay, I like questions. I like to talk about this with people who care." Marius could dig that, he got where she was coming from. "First up, you will never address me as Eugene or a he. Ever. Do you understand me?"

He dipped his head up and down frantically in a agreement. Calling Cosette anything besides her name or her preferred pronouns was something he'd never dream of. 

"Alright. I went on blockers when I was twelve, and I've been on estrogen for five months." She estimated. "I'm actually one of the youngest people to be pit on estrogen. My papa insisted I be given nothing but the best."

"What happens with estrogen?" Marius propped up on his elbows. 

"Estrogen makes your hair shinier, your veins less prominent, reduces body hair, and begins the development of breasts." Cosette rattled off a few effects that made Marius' head spin. "But I won't menstrate."

Marius' audible sigh of relief made Cosette chuckle softly. "Thank God." 

"You're adorable ." Cosette turned over to beam at him. "It just makes me more and more like a cis woman." 

"Cis?" Marius furrowed his brow.

"A person whose self-identity conforms with the gender that corresponds to their biological sex. So basically a bunch of hoopla that really doesn't matter since gender is a social construct." In one breath, Cosette delivered that rant without batting an eye. 

"Social-"

"You have so much to learn." Cosette smirked at him sweetly. "Anyway." Rolling over she sighed. "I guess you should know, I don't have- female genitalia." 

"Good. I've never known how to work those anyways." Marius joked, thankfully Cosette saw the humor in that and laughed along.

"Stop it, you're too cute." Cosette flipped back over to face him. 

For what remained of the night, Cosette spouted out answers to all of Marius' polite questions as the cuddled under a blanket, completely at ease. There relationship finally begun.


	19. Chapter 19

Somewhere between third period and lunch, Grantaire caught up with Enjolras at his locker. Enjolras was stuffing books back into his locker in an untidy fashion. Truth is, Enjolras was a mess, and without his friends, he'd probably be six feet under by that point. Enjolras didn't pretend to not know he'd be nowhere without Combeferre gently reminding him to take care of himself, or Joly always forcing medication down his throat even when he's too sick to know what he needs. 

"Hey, Enjolras." Grantaire slouched against the row of lockers next to Enjolras with a smirk. Every since they started dating, Enjolras and Grantaire's dynamic has dramatically changed. Sure, they still had difference, and they bickered and rolled their eyes at each other, but Enjolras was trying his best with the whole relationship deal. He'd never done it before. It was like being on Mars. As eloquent of a speaker Enjolras was, he didn't know how to talk to Grantaire. 

"Oh, hi." Enjolras itched behind his neck nervously. Grantaire was good at relationships, he understood them since he had been involved with several people throughout high school. His flirting was excellent, he was romantic, and whenever Enjolras saw him, he got butterflies. 

"Follow me?" The crooked bottom row of Grantaire's smile made Enjolras' head spin. No one could silence Enjolras so easily. He nodded, golden curls bobbing. 

Grantaire took Enjolras' hand and tugged him through the hall, down the stairs and through the commons. The crowd of students thinned as they rushed through the arts hall. Huge murals with bold, flashy colors had been painted on the smooth walls, one of which by Grantaire himself. It was the one outside the choir room of an enchanting blond whose long hair flourished into golden music notes that faded to red at the tips. Enjolras always loved Grantaire's work, even before they were dating.

They slipped onto the empty theatre. A single spotlight shot onto the stage and Grantaire lead Enjolras right under it's blinding glow where a picnic was laid out for them. 

"What's all this?" Enjolras was a little stunned. No one had ever done something so romantic for him. Or anything romantic for him. Unless you count impromptu study dates in Combeferre's room.

"A date!" Grantaire yanked him down onto the blanket with him.

"During school?" Enjolras blinked at him. "Won't we get in trouble?"

"Enjolras, we're seniors. They can't touch us." He leaned and pecked Enjolras' full lips.

Enjolras had to admit, dating Grantaire was weird. Just last week, he had convinced himself that his feelings towards Grantaire had to be hateful, and now they were kissing! But they did fight less because Enjolras wasn't so frustrated with his unfamiliar feelings now that he realized how much he want Grantaire and that was a huge plus. Though relationships were uncharted territory for Enjolras, he was glad he was finally with Grantaire. And even more glad that he understood his feelings at last. 

"You got a point," he replied. Grantaire dug through the basket and then handed Enjolras a little sandwich wrapped in plastic. 

The fact that Grantaire went through all this trouble to be spontaneous and sweet to him made him remember that he had wanted to ask him out that night. He had found the perfect venue for a leisurely date with lots of hand holding. The only problem: he didn't know how to ask.

Well, he knew how to ask, everyone knows how. It was just awkward for Enjolras to bring it up, despite their budding romance. That made him feel very silly.

Enjolras took a deep breath, finally gathering the courage to ask. "Are you free tonight?" He blurted with closed eyes. "I had a date idea too, actually." 

"Oh God! You?" Grantaire teased. "If you take me to a seminar about women's-"

"Quiet, you." Enjolras grinned. "I found an art gallery I think you'll enjoy online. Can I pick you up six?"

"Sounds good." Grantaire said, hardly opening his full mouth. When he swallowed, he continued the conversation effortlessly, a skill Enjolras was jealous of. "Your dad knows we're dating, right?" 

Shit! 

He knew he had forgotten something! Its not that Valjean wouldn't support him, the issue was Enjolras was a little socially constipated when he was talking about himself, especially sexuality. Discussing homosexuality from a political stand point was something he could do for hours. Why was coming out still difficult. 

"Um, not unless Cosette told him, no." Enjolras tried to smile, but he looked a little sick from how Grantaire was looking at him with an astonished look.

"You mean you haven't told him?" He roared. "So, I'm still not allowed in your house? What the hell, Enjolras?" 

"Its not that I'm ashamed of you!" Enjolras countered frantically.

"Sure!" Grantaire scorned. "Mr. Perfect with me! How would you cope if that got around?" It sounded like Grantaire was going to embark upon a rant, and Enjolras could feel in his gut that he would be compelled to fight back, which was why he was so thankful that Cosette came bolting into the theatre at that very moment, intercepting their first fight as a couple.

"Enjolras!" She was squealing and waving a copy of the school's newspaper. The school's newspaper was printed every few weeks and put together largely by the one and only Jehan Prouvaire. It consisted of hard-hitting journalism, a gossip column, a few joke submissions, and of course, the lunch menu. That day, Cosette seemed very animated about something Jehan had thrown into the black and white bundle of pages. Jehan, long braid flappy behind him, was following Cosette down the stairs, equally as enthused about this as her. 

"Enjolras! Grantaire!" Cosette called, beaming. "The newspaper! You have go to see this!" She bounced onto the stage and slid beside the two on their picnic blanket. Cosette's bubbly attitude was catching, Grantaire's anger melted away and the fight was over before it could properly begin. 

Enjolras took the folded up newspaper and opened it so he and Grantaire could both see the headline: Freshmen Student's Secret Revealed. A picture of Cosette was smiling proudly at them in granular black and white print. The article was a contribution written by Jehan with his beautiful poetic style coming through clearly. He went on about acceptance and bravery in such a way that could change the hearts of even the most bigoted students. It was one of the floweriest articles Enjolras had ever read, but it worked in some strange way.

"I'm officially public!" Cosette giggled, her grin so lively that her eyes squinted.

Enjolras felt his jaw drop. He couldn't even tell his dad about Grantaire yet Cosette had the courage to tell the whole school about her assigned sex in hopes that it might inspire someone out there. It was incredible. 

"That's amazing." Grantaire leaned over to hug Cosette while Enjolras stared at the paper like he was frozen or something. 

"Thank you!" Her lips brushed against his cheek in a friendly manner. "Enjolras?" She quirked an eyebrow as she released. "Is there something wrong?"

Only that my little sister is one thousand times braver than me.

"No!" He assured her with eyes still glued in the headline. "This is- this is great. Really, really great." 

An airy laugh expelled out of her nose and she flung her arms around Enjolras. "I would be nowhere without you, Enjolras. I love you so much." 

"I-I love you too."

Times like those reminded Enjolras out when Cosette first came out to their dad at the age of twelve, days after she told Enjolras. 

It was a sunny day, Cosette's twelfth birthday, a perfect day to come out since no one can be mad at someone on their birthday! Valjean had come home with Cosette's stereotypically male birthday gift and the inclination that he would be teaching her how to shave that day, just as he did on Enjolras' twelfth birthday just three years prior. Having two sons was how Valjean had seen his life, minus raising them alone. It brought him great joy to have father-son bonding time with his children he thought were both boys. 

Enjolras remembered clearly watching from the hall way as Valjean handed Cosette a razor. Her initial reaction was to press the blade less vessel against her boyish legs. Valjean gently guided the razor to her face, but Cosette insisted on pulling it back to her legs. That threw Valjean for a loop.

"Eugene, this is for your face. Only girls shave their legs!" He chuckled. As she carefully dragged the razor across her skin, all the sudden, Cosette burst into tears. 

"Eugene!" Valjean panicked. "Are you okay?"

Cosette shook her head vigorously. "No! I'm not a boy! I'm not a boy!" 

From that moment on, everything was different. Valjean calmed her down enough to tell him that she was transgender and was too be called Euphrasie, but preferably Cosette. The whole time, Enjolras remained very quiet, not wanting to say something dumb.

"Do you still love me?" She sniffled.

"Cosette, of course I do." Valjean smiled warmly. "You are no son of mine, but you are my daughter."

Within a week, Cosette was on blockers and trading a wardrobe of clothes plucked from the boys section for a much pinker variety. And now, Cosette was sharing her struggle in hopes to lessen the burden if others. She was truly a role model for Enjolras.

 

\---

 

Marius' French class was quickly becoming his favorite part of the day. First of all, he loved the way French rolled off his tongue like it had been his first language. Then he had the pleasure of sitting next to his very best friend, Courfeyrac and directly behind Cosette, who had transferred to the advanced class a few weeks before. The teacher was even bearable! 

The only negative about that class was who stomped in late that day. Marius didn't know it then, but that greasy young man, wearing too much leather was going to make him regret signing up for that course. 

His name was Montparnasse and he took a seat across the aisle from him. Sure, he knew him through Eponine, but Marius only saw him when he was chasing him and Marius also saw him creeping around with Eponine. 

Courfeyrac told him that Montparnasse was a senior last year and had been held back before due to his poor attendance, behavioral problems, and affinity for being distracted by his own reflection. From the way Courfeyrac described Montparnasse, Marius could tell he wasn't a big fan of the stylish bad boy.

When he plopped into the plastic chair, Montparnasse slapped the newspaper harshly against the shiny, plastic wood of the desk. Cosette had told him all about the article Jehan had so kindly wrote for her. Sales were through the roof for those papers, Jehan says they must have sold one to every student by the way they were struggling to print enough supply. Cosette's announcement had taken supremacy over all other gossip in the school. They were no longer talking about the girl who got knocked-up by a teacher, or the boy who wounded up in the juvenile detention center after trying to kill his father. It was sort of magical.

The teacher, Mrs. Wong went on with her lesson enthusiastically, her pointer sticker getting a real work out. About a third of the way through class, Mrs. Wong assigned some partner reading in the text book. Marius' first thought was having to chose between his best friend and his girlfriend as a partner, but Mrs. Wong quickly relieved him by announcing that she'd pair up everyone herself. 

"You and you." She pointed at two individuals and they moved to sit by each other. She continued motioning other people together like that until Mrs. Wong gestured to Marius and then Montparnasse, forcing them to read together. "You two can go out in the hall, so can you and Courfeyrac, Miss. Cosette." Marius was glad that he would at least be in good company while suffering in the hallway with Montparnasse. 

Text book in hand and Newspaper under his arm, Montparnasse sulked out the door while Marius waited to walk out with Courfeyrac and Cosette. 

"He has the paper, Cosette!" He murmured, knowing it would trigger excitement within his girlfriend.

"I know!" She cheered, effectively melting Marius' heart.

They settled against the dingy lockers, Marius and Montparnasse on one side and Cosette and Courfeyrac on the opposite side and end of the hall. Marius fidgeted with the cardigan he borrowed from Courfeyrac as he opened the book on his bent knees. Down the hall, Cosette and Courfeyrac had already began their passage, so Marius cleared his throat and attempted to get the ball rolling.

"S-so, should we, you know, read?" He asked sheepishly. In response, Montparnasse shoved Marius' book to the ground. 

"Shut up, faggot!" He growled. 

Marius was taken aback, he had been called many things, but no one had dared to target him with such a crass slur before. "Excuse me?" Marius stammered. 

"You heard me, gay-wad." Montparnasse smacked him with the newspaper. 

Oddly, Marius' first thought was that Montparnasse had some how found out Marius and Courfeyrac had been cuddling every night since he moved in. Though Marius knew it was supposed to be completely platonic, if word spread that two guys were spooning under the sheets, rumors about Marius' sexuality would certainly follow. Not that he was interested in exploring that side of himself, but he had a girlfriend that he loved very much. 

"I'm not gay." He honestly tried to be assertive, but it came out as more of a whimper than a roar.

"What're you talking 'bout?" Montparnasse waved the front page in front of Marius' face. "You're the one dating the he-she!" 

"Don't call her that!" Marius ordered between gritted teeth. 

"And who's gonna stop me, fag?" Montparnasse snarled. "You don't scare me! You're sucking dick too much to work out!" 

Before Marius could lunge and attack the jerk, Mrs. Wong poked her head out. "Reading, students. You should be reading." She ducked back in and Marius scrambled to open his book back up. Without the help of his partner, Marius buried his face in the dated pages for the rest of class.

After class, Marius sprinted to his locker, only to be followed by Montparnasse. "You won this time, queer ass, but I'm gonna getcha." Forcefully, Montparnasse shoved Marius against the bank of lockers. "Watch yourself."  
\---

 

Enjolras was never late for anything if he could help it, especially not for something he was nervous about. It was only natural for Enjolras to be a few minutes early to pick up Grantaire. He still hadn't told his dad about Grantaire just yet, but he was exactly hiding it either. It's not like he lied about who Abe was going to see. Enjolras just said he was going to an art gallery. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't ready to come out and it didn't make Enjolras' love for Grantaire any less real.

When he pulled into the make-shift, grass driveway, Grantaire was already outside. Apparently he didn't want to answer any questions his father may have about an attractive male knocking on the door. Grantaire really shouldn't mind the fact that Enjolras wasn't shouting his attraction to men- Grantaire in particular- at the top of his lungs given the fact that he was keeping their relationship a secret from his dad too.

Enjolras felt over dressed once he saw what Grantaire was wearing, just a simple, white V-neck made out of ultra thin fabric that revealed his thin bod, a pair of paint-splattered black jeans, and an army green beanie over his unruly, raven curls. It was no doubt he looked hot, but Enjolras thought this was more formal than a night at the bowling alley. Enjolras' legs were hugged by sinfully sexy charcoal dress slacks. A red button-up under a matching suit jacket and a thin black tie covered Enjolras' milky white torso to a tee. Grantaire could've at least worn clean pants.

"Jeez!" Grantaire gaped at Enjolras in the driver's seat. "Why are you getting all dressed up for me?" He quipped.

"Because I want to impress you." Trying to fight a blush from crossing his perfectly sculpted cheeks, Enjolras' face failed him as Grantaire's lips brushed against it. 

"You always impress me! You could show up naked and still impress me." Grantaire was undoubtedly wondering how Enjolras could ever feel insecure when he was what society deemed beautiful. "Actually that would really impress me." It was things like that. Enjolras was expected to be perfect, even though he had his fair share of flaws. Besides Grantaire was his first boyfriend, he wanted to make sure he was putting his best foot forward.

Grantaire climbed into the car next to the antsy blond and he backed out of the yard.

Enjolras took a deep, measured breath before clearing his throat. "You look really good tonight too," Enjolras said all too diplomatically.

"Thanks." Grantaire smirked. It was like Grantaire couldn't take a compliment and that was hard for Enjolras to grasp. To him, Grantaire was nothing but gorgeous. "This place we're going to, do they allow alcohol?"

Enjolras tensed up, nails digging into the steering wheel. "Grantaire, you know how I feel about that." They've had that conversation many times since they embarked upon a relationship. Grantaire's drinking was the cause of so many issues for both of them. Plus, he had promised on countless occasions to cut back and even quit drinking over the course of their relationship. And Enjolras had to admit that Grantaire had been sober when ever they came into contact. That made him very proud, but still, Grantaire was definitely sneaking drinks at home. 

"I know. It's just been a bad day at home." Enjolras couldn't blame him to be honest. If he was still living with his birth parents, or rather his father since his mother is off drinking on a cruise ship somewhere in the Caribbean, he would probably turn to alcohol himself. "I need something to make it all go away." 

"Maybe I can help." Enjolras reached over and took Grantaire's hand with genuine concern glimmering in his charming smile. 

Enjolras parked in front of a plain, white box of a building the internet had claimed to be a gallery full of the world's primere paintings and sculptures. By the way Grantaire's eyes bugged out for a second, Enjolras could tell this was either a really great art gallery or had a reputation of being awful.

"Is everything okay?" Enjolras asked, putting the car in park.

"Y-yeah!" He scrambled. "I'm just really gonna need-" Enjolras didn't like how he started that statement. "Let's just get this over with." 

Ouch.

Enjolras and Grantaire held hands as they strolled down the white halls. Though he could tell Grantaire was rudely anxious to book it, Enjolras enjoyed holding his hand too much to hurry anything along, despite his disinterest in art that wasn't created by his boyfriend.

"Can we just go back to your place?" Grantaire pleaded petulantly.

"No!" Enjolras rolled his eyes, tugging him around the corner. "There was something I saw on the website that I really want to see in person. I think you'll like it." He could hear Grantaire gulp, thankfully not on alcohol.

He wasn't lying, Enjolras was doing his research on the gallery when he stumbled upon the most breathtaking painting he had ever seen. It didn't have any information on the artist on the website, so Enjolras was hopeful that he could either make out a signature in a corner or maybe there'd be a plaque in front of it waxing poetically about the godly artist behind the canvas.

Just around that very corner, Enjolras spotted the exquisite painting hanging alone on a white wall of prominence. His eyes lit up and his pace quickened. "There it is!" Grantaire tried to pull Enjolras away, but his heart was set on discovering the artist. 

Finally, they were there, shadowed by the towering presence of the huge painting of an angelic person with long, golden locks that swirled around the page. The most catching thing was the severity of the blue eyes. Passion poured out of them and inspired Enjolras in ways he couldn't explain.

"Wow." Enjolras gasped while Grantaire was just trying to escape. "Why aren't you as excited about this as I am?" 

"'Cause this is shitty."

"It's amazing." 

"It's you." 

That sent shock waves through Enjolras' body. What was Grantaire saying? "No, it's-" He struggled to find a reason why it couldn't be him. "It can't be me! The artist doesn't know me! Besides, who would want to paint me?"

"I would." Grantaire sighed. "I painted it."

Was that why Grantaire didn't want to be there? Was he embarrassed or something? Enjolras didn't know what to say at that point. 

"Y-you?" He really should have known, Grantaire was the only artist to every capture Enjolras' ateention. 

"Yep. I paint younpretty much all the time. That painting outside the choir room? You. Most my sketchbooks? You. Can we go now? I can't look at this crap." He tried to walk away but Enjolras yanked him back.

"No. We can't go. My boyfriend painted this and it's not very nice of you to insult my boyfriend because I love him more than anyone else in the world, understood?" Grantaire couldn't leave after that. They must have spent hours admiring every brush stroke, Enjolras getting all riled up about it and Grantaire rolling his eyes at him when he sat criss-cross in front of the huge R painted in the lower left corner to gaze at it with pride welling in those heart stopping blue eyes that were so elegantly replicated in Grantaire's masterpiece.


	20. Chapter 20

Thanksgiving had always been hectic for Cosette. Cooking a huge meal with very little help only to save her brother and father from clumsily tackling the dishes was not Cosette's idea of a relaxing day, but that particular Thanksgiving was even more stressful than usual. 

You see, Cosette and Enjolras both came home one day and agreed to tell their father about their boyfriends. Cosette went first, revealing she was dating an adorably awkward boy with an open mind and accepting heart, then Enjolras announced he and Grantaire had miraculously became a couple. The way Enjolras explained their relationship had been very interesting. He said they were like plates shifting under the earth, grating against each other and mounting tension. Everyone knew it was law that they would eventually reach a point were they'd suddenly rattle the ground with one, final push, but no one suspecting it in such a way. Everyone thought it would converge with destruction and tragedy. Instead, the snap triggered something violently beautiful. Love. The one thing that rips us apart while it rebuilds us. 

Needless to say, Cosette was very stressed bumbling around the kitchen in anticipation of their guests. Marius was invited to his Grandfather's for a dinner to smooth things over, so they had to have Thanksgiving lunch to accomadate. Valjean really wanted to meet both of his children's boyfriends and this was his chance; he wasn't going to miss it. 

Lunch was, for the most part, all laid out on their fanciest table cloth. Cosette had lit the candles and bound the silverware in napkins at each, individual place setting. The food was prepared with her normal precision and quality. She even had just the right mood music playing softly in the background. Not a detail over-lookeed, the meal had been set up for success. 

"The clothes you laid out for me, they're really nice." Enjolras said, buttoning up his casual suit jacket as he strolled into the kitchen. She really had out done herself, even compared to the many, fabulous date outfits she had constructed for him recently. Thankfully, he was supplied with an abundance of formal attire. 

"I'll take that as a thank you." Cosette quickly pressed a kiss on his cheek. "I'm going to get ready. If Marius gets here before I'm done, let him in and behave, you hear?" 

Enjolras grumbled out something that sounded like a resignation as Cosette hurried off to her bedroom. On her bed, Cosette had her outfit set out for the meal: a lovely, striped dress with long sleeves and fall colors. Nothing to extravagant, but paired with the right scarf and wrist-full of bracelets, it would be perfect. 

Since she had taken the liberty of twisting her hair into loose, blonde coils before she prepared the meal, Cosette had to be extra careful while she peeled off her pink sweater with lines of white and grey sheep. Sweaters were sort of her thing. In the colder months, Cosette was most normally found in cozy sweaters and skinny jeans, but as spring rolled around, it was back to dresses and skirts nearly everyday. 

Dress hugging her curves, which were steadily becoming more and more exaggerated, Cosette took a deep breath. Her dad was about to meet Marius. That wasn't so bad. The real worry was that Marius was going to meet her dad. 

All the sudden the door bell rang. Cosette spritzed on a little more perfume and bounded down the stairs to prevent Enjolras from becoming overbearing about social justice. 

She was too late.

By the time she reached the entrance, Enjolras had a petition and a own pointed directly at poor Marius. It was the social activism equivalent of a head lock and a loaded gun. 

"Just sign right here and-"

"Enjolras!" Cosette cried, prying away the clipboard and taking Marius by the arm. "Please, Marius just got here!" Enjolras pouted as Cosette guided out of Enjolras' charming reach. 

The sweater vest Marius was sporting, one with an orange and brown argyle pattern, was simply dashing to Cosette. His khaki pants fit him just right so that he didn't look gawky or awkward. He looked gracefully, even with his somewhat stringy figure. Not that Cosette didn't only see up most perfection in Marius she happened to adore how he looked. But, those above average looks would not be complete without his lovable personality and cute quirks. 

There was, however, something that didn't make Cosette beam about Marius that Thanksgiving. A shiny, black bruise ringed around his vibrant grey-blue eyes. 

"What happened?" She gasped, tenderly carassing the swollen circle. Marius flinched at her touch.

"Nothing." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Unfortunately, Cosette was not appeased by that answer. She crossed her arms, shifted her weight to her back foot, and made an unimpressed face. 

"Am I supposed to buy that?" 

Marius sighed. "Montparnasse punched me."

"You mean that creep that Eponine hangs out with?" Marius nodded with squinted eyes. "Marius!" Cosette gave him a light swack. "Why were you hanging out with him? He's a jerk!" Cosette had noticed a rise in Montparnasse's rudeness, especially directed towards Marius. She was just hoping it would stop, and that she wasn't causing this with her sudden outing. 

"Courfeyrac and I were downtown last night at the Bing," he explained frantically. "We just sort of ran into him." 

Cosette didn't want to hear about the exchange that let up to a fist in Marius' eye; she'd rather pretend the situation wasn't triggered by the article. Even though she was sure dating a trans girl would definitely get Marius a few looks, Cosette couldn't let Marius get bullied because of their relationship. As soon as she witnessed him suffering, she knew she would have to end it. 

"Well, I'm glad you're alright," she said conclusively. "Please Excuse my father, he's feeling a bit under the weather today." A hopeful look crossed Marius' face, like he had just gotten out of meeting Cosette's dad. Before Cosette could break it to him, Valjean hobbled out of his bedroom in his pale yellow robe.

"Oh honey, did you really think I was going to stay in bed while we have guests?" Valjean grinned at his daughter, but when his tired eyes struck Marius, they turned cold. 

"Papa!" Cosette rushed to Valjean and threw her arms around him. Those unwelcoming eyes pierced over Cosette and straight into Marius. She twirled around, offering Marius a smile and her delicate hand. Hesitantly, Marius took her hand, earning dagger-eyes from Valjean. 

Valjean was a large man, the top of his bushy white hair stretching well above the six foot mark. He may have been old, but he couldn't certainly crush Marius' skull with those muscular thighs of his. Having never seen the intimidating man before, Marius went pale. After Cosette grabbed his hand and gave it a reasurring squeeze, she walked him over to Valjean. 

"Papa, this is my boyfriend, Marius." She released Marius' nervous hand so he and her father could complete their introduction with a shake. "Marius, this my Papa." For Cosette's sake, they shook. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Marius." Valjean lied.

"The p-pleasure's all m-mine!" Marius cringed at the fact that he stuttered in front of Cosette's dad. 

Cosette could tell that Valjean was acting differently, and she didn't like it. He had always been kind to visitors, especially this year. Cosette bringing home a friend in the beginning of the year had been something Valjean welcomed. His hostility was very odd. She supposed her father wasn't too keen on her having romantic relationships with boys. It was also a father-thing to intimidate the boyfriend. She just wondered if Valjean was going to treat Grantaire the same way. 

Speaking of Grantaire, just after Marius stammered his first few words to Valjean, Grantaire knocked on the door. At that, Enjolras and Cosette locked eyes. Something told Cosette not to race him, and to just let him handle it.

"I'll get it," Enjolras said directly to Cosette. Powerful strides brought him over to the door.

Sensing that the focus was shifting to Grantaire, who came in respectfully, Enjolras and him both to afraid to hug, Cosette ushered Marius to the table. "You can sit there, right by my spot." She instructed in an almost motherly tone. They both took their seats at the table and observed her father and Grantaire's interaction.

Valjean's warm smile was back, he was eager to shake Grantaire's hand and welcome him into his home. That was very confusing to Cosette. Her father was so protective of her, but not Enjolras. It wasn't that Grantaire was more trustworthy than Marius. Marius was a sweetheart with straight A's and social issues, Grantaire was an obnoxious bad boy. It was probably a father-daughter thing. Afterall, Cosette was his baby girl, it's a father's job to scare the shit out of their daughter's boyfriends.

After the three of them, Valjean, Enjolras, and Grantaire all took a seat, Cosette's dad did what they do before every meal: pray. Enjolras had told Cosette he was an atheist and so was Grantaire, but since Vajean just assumed everyone was religious at the table, he prompted everyone to join hands and bow their heads.

"Marius, why don't you lead us in grace?" Valjean asked, almost deviously. Cosette felt Marius tense up next to her. Though Marius' grandfather was a devout Catholic like Valjean, they never prayed before meals. They kept quiet at the table, mostly because they didn't have any desire to socialize with each other, but his grandfather insisted he kept his lips zipped because he prayed in his head the wholr meal. Marius knew that was a lie. Long story short, Marius didn't knew grace and his red cheeks weren't hiding that very well.

"Um, y-yeah." He cleared his throat. Cosette prayed he could pull this off. Getting a bit panicked, Marius sifted through all the times he had ever heard someone pray before a meal. Episodes of TV shows, scenes from movies, commericals flooded his brain, none of which he could fully trust. Especially given all the lame comedies Courfeyrac forced him to endure. Marius just took a deep breath and began.

"Um, D-dear Jesus." He cleared his throat again. "I just-just wanted to um- thank you! Yes, thank you for bringing us all to-together, as one happy family, all brothers and sisters- well sister, singular- under you're- you're s-sun. But we aren't actually siblings because that would be incest- not that anyone is like, having premartial s-sex or anything, because, y'know the bible says-"

"Marius." Valjean interupted. "Why don't we just have someone say the traditional grace for us, hmm?" Defeated, Marius hung his head. Cosette felt awful for him, so she squeezed his hand, knowing anyone else could do a better job saying grace than him. Except Grantaire.

"I know it." Grantaire volunteered casually. "Bless us, O Lord! and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen." 

Remember when Cosette doubted that Grantaire could recite grace before meals? Yeah, she definitely took that back after hearing him seamlessly thank God for the feast Cosette had slaved away over. Valjean seemed very impressed too, but no more impressed with Grantaire than he was disappointed with Marius.

 

\---

 

"He hates me!" Marius fretted as he helped Cosette with the dishes. 

"He does not hate you, Marius." Cosette rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. Sure, they got off to a rocky start with that hostile introduction and awkward grace, but things didn't get much worse after that. Well, they did get worse, but not unbearably. Okay, it was pretty unbearable. 

Everything Marius did was wrong in Valjean's eyes, and Grantaire took that as an opportunity to make himself look good. Grantaire corrected Marius' mistakes just like he did with that prayer. 

Marius had never guessed Grantaire would be better liked by Valjean than him. It must have been something to do with the sobriety making him more charming. Of course, cutting off alcohol didn't work like that. If anything, Grantaire should be a temperamental catastrophe, not the picture of ease around his boyfriend's dad. It had made Marius wonder just how much Grantaire had actually cut back. 

"He doesn't like me as much as Grantaire." Marius muttered under his breath, scrubbing away at a dish and glaring and Grantaire who was holding a stimulating conversation with Cosette and Enjolras' dad. 

It made him sick. 

Okay, maybe not sick. 

He was glad Grantaire got along with Valjean, he just wished he coukd have hit it off with Valjean like that. After all, in Marius' mind, he was going to marry Cosette one of these days. Sooner rather than later, but they were still so young. He really shouldn't worry about marriage just yet. Honestly, he shouldn't even worry about Senior prom yet. But that was his way, he focused in one thing and planned excessively, so that everything else got fuzzy. He hasn't had a conversation that wasn't about Cosette in weeks. She was Marius' whole life, and his relationship with her father was very important to him. 

 

\---

 

Traditions were very important to Courfeyrac. Not traditions like gender roles or anything unnecessary like that, but stuff like sharing a frappé with Jehan after every one of his poetry reads, or calling Enjolras at 12am on his birthday to sing to him. Things that actually mattered, things that made people smile. 

That's why Combeferre understood just how important it was to Courfeyrac that he came to his house for their annual 'Golden Trio' sleepover. Why the date lined up with Thanksgiving was because their first sleepover, the one that started the tradition, landed on black Friday. This year, Combeferre somehow found a way to convince his parents to allow him to spend Thanksgiving night at Courfeyrac's for nostalgic purposes. 

So there he was, at Courfeyrac's door, trying to persuade himself to knock. It had never made him nervous to go to Courfeyrac's house before, but now he was actually beginning to grasp that he had romantic feelings for Courfeyrac, and that made things complicated. 

Seeing Courfeyrac was difficult for Combeferre. Everything he did made him weak in the knees. He just wanted to confess his love for him, but with the way he talks dreamily about Marius, Combeferre was sure he was in love with his roommate. And there was no way he could compete with someone like Marius. 

All the sudden, Courfeyrac creaked open the door, giving Combeferre a jolt. "Hey?" Courfeyrac almost questioned as he just peeked his curly-haired head out of the front door. "You've been pacing out her for like ten minutes?" He looked very concerned. "You gonna come in?" 

"Oh! Yeah!" Combeferre shook out of his trance. That made a smug grin spread across his cute, boyish face, one that made Combeferre's bulky glasses fog up.

"Good, because you look too, too cute in that sweater to not come in and cuddle!" Courfeyrac gushed. The fact that Courfeyrac was always flirty confused Combeferre to no end. He could never tell how much truth was held in those words, if he actually thought he was cute, or if he was just being friendly. If he really wanted to cuddle, or if he was just trying to see if Combeferre could blush as dark as Marius.

Courfeyrac opened the door full swing and made a sweeping gesture to reverently invite Combeferre inside. "Enjolras is on the couch watching Mrrepzion videos. He hasn't blinked for twenty minutes. I'm worried."

Chuckling, Combeferre shuffled past Courfeyrac to the living room where Enjolras was, just as the host had said, staring at the man on his phone screen. 

"Hey, Enjolras."

"Shh!" He snapped at him, not bothering to look up from the video. It wasn't unusual for Enjolras to be off in his own world when hanging out with friends he felt comfortable with. He wasn't actually very social; he loved people, especially his friends, and debating politics was his very favorite activity, but he wasn't too big on small talk. If a conversation interested him, he'd jump right on it. Otherwise, he kept to himself. Combeferre was the same, only he was strictly introverted, whereas Enjolras was obviously energized by a bit of stimulating conversation. 

"He's been like this the while time. He walked in, staring at that phone!" Courfeyrac stomped in front of the couch and bent down to get right in Enjolras' face. "He didn't even say hi!" He whined petulantly with his tongue sticking out to puncaute. "Now you're here and I have someone to talk to!" Beside Enjolras, Courfeyrac plopped down and yanked Combeferre next to him by his reindeer sweater sleeve. 

"So!" His eyes were glistening with anticipation as he crossed his legs and leaned in intently. "Let's talk queer!" 

"Queer?" 

"Yeah! Like, do you have an idea of your sexuality?" He asked curiously. 

Combeferre had put a lot of thought into his sexual orientation, however he hadn't spoken any of those thoughts to anyone. Talking about his sexuality with someone else made him a bit flustered, but if there was anyone he could discuss this with, it was Courfeyrac. 

"Well, I like guys." Combeferre began steadily. "And I don't think I like girls. So I guess that makes me gay, right?" Combeferre offered a weak smirk that Courfeyrac challenged with a beam.

"This is the best thing ever!" Courfeyrac eccentrically smooched his cheek. All the fluttering feelings Combeferre expirenced that day Courfeyrac kissed him in the bathroom came rushing back, except it stung. It stung because he knew he would never get to taste his lips again, that was just a one time thing. "Now we can talk about boys together! We'll be gay best friends!"

That was a low blow. 

"Yeah." Combeferre sighed. "Best friends." 

"C'mon!" Courfeyrac shifted into a criss-cross applesauce postition. "Tell me who you like!"

As much as he wanted to admit his love for Courfeyrac, Combeferre knew it was for the best that he kept it to himself. "No one really." He lied. Research states that it is harder to tell a convincing lie to someone you find sexually attractive. Combeferre was hoping Courfeyrac wouldn't see through that one. 

"What about you?" He regretted that immediately after saying it and seeing Courfeyrac getting all dazed, clearly fantasizing about Marius. 

"No one," he said dopily. 

Combeferre could tell he was trying to lure him in to pry. "Not true." He tisked. "Just tell me, I won't tell anyone." Combeferre tipped his head in Enjolras' direction. "Especially not him."

"Alright, fine!' Courfeyrac burst, not hesitating at all. "But Cosette can't know!"

"Okay, this is completely confidential, no worries." 

"I have a thing for Marius." A thing was an understatement. Courfeyrac was definitely mad over that boy. "It's like, he's so perfect! I can't even!" When Courfeyrac fangirled over real people, Combeferre knew it was serious. To Combeferre's dismay, he had yet to see or hear of Courfeyrac fangirling over him. 

"He's got a girlfriend." Combeferre pushed his slipping glasses back up the bridge of his nose. 

"I know." Courfeyrac wheezed. "But maybe he'll change his mind! Maybe he'll realize that-"

"The perfect guy has always been right here?" Combeferre completed his statement in a dispairing tone that shocked Courfeyrac.

"Yeah." Courfeyrac's brow furrowed. "How'd you know I was going to say that?"

"Lucky guess."

Courfeyrac looked like he was about to say something that would destroy him in the best possible way when his phone began buzzing. He fumbled around in his pocket for the vibrating phone and glanced at the screen. A picture of Courfeyrac with his arm slung around Marius' toaster-shoulders lit up the screen. 

"It's Marius." Courfeyrac whispered as he put the phone up to his ear. 

"Hey! You what? Whoa! Slow down, Marius!" There was a break in Courfeyrac's end of the conversation. "Okay, okay. Give me ten minutes, I'm there." He hung up abruptly. 

"What was that about?"

"Marius grandfather isn't letting him leave." Courfeyrac looked so scared, so small when he had said that. It broke Combeferre's heart. "We have to go get him, 'Ferre." 

 

\---

 

"When's he coming out?" Combeferre muttered to Courfeyrac, who was scoping the house with a random set of binoculars he, for whatever reason, had hidden in his glove compartment. They had been staking out the house for nearly an hour without the heat on (Courfeyrac insisted they shut off the car in order to spy undetected) and it was starting to get to both of them. 

"S-s-soon-n!" Courfeyrac's teeth were literally chattering. This was getting out of hand. 

"Courfeyrac!" Combeferre gasped as he put the back of his hand against his icy face. "You're freezing cold! We're turning that heat back on!" He reached out for the knob, only to have his hand swatted away by a shivering Courfeyrac. 

"No!" He shot through his clenched jaw. "We c-c-can't b-be seen-n." If there was one thing Combeferre was certain of, it was that Courfeyrac was just as stubborn as Enjolras. His mind couldn't be changed so Combeferre had to improvise. 

"Fine! But at least let me warm you up." Combeferre waved Courfeyrac over. The chilled boy knew exactly what he meant and he scooted into Combeferre's lap to cuddle. 

The feeling of Courfeyrac in his arms was just as satisfying as the taste of his lips against his own. Courfeyrac was so eager to be in his lap, so content cuddled against Combeferre's masculine build. He naturally buried his handsome face into Combeferre's cozy sweater. They just fit together like puzzle pieces, not just physically but emotionally. Maybe one day Courfeyrac would wake up and realize that. 

"Any warmer?" Combeferre murmured against Courfeyrac's neck, his lips brushing against his skin like he was kissing him.

"A little." Courfeyrac whimpered into Combeferre's chest. There was a happy silence the two treasured. "Y'know something, 'Ferre?" He yawned. 

"Hmm?" Combeferre breathed in the smell of Courfeyrac's curly hair, which had obviously been thoroughly slathered in coconut shampoo recently. 

"I love you." Combeferre was either dreaming, or Courfeyrac was just being friendly. There was no way he meant anything by it, at least nothing more than platonic. Still, it never hurts for some to tell you that they love you. 

Out of no where, the car door wrenched open and Marius stumbled into the back seat, successfully ruining everything. "Hey!" Courfeyrac imediately dove into the driver's seat to hide the fact that he was curled up in Combeferre's lap. 

"Marius!" Courfeyrac frantically sped away from the house when he heard the seat belt click from the back. "Marius, Marius, Marius! Are you alright?" 

"Yeah." He sighed in relief. "He just started screaming as soon as I walked in the door. If you hadn't come to get me, I would be in Military school by Monday!" 

"Well, it's a good thing we came for you. I would miss that cute face." That time, Combeferre could tell Courfeyrac was being honest. If only Courfeyrac flirted earnestly with Combeferre. That would save him a whole lot of heartbreak


	21. Chapter 21

"Here they come!" Eponine hissed at Montparnasse, swiftly ducking behind a corner. Ever since Cosette came out, Eponine had been nudging Montparnasse into harassing Marius in front of Cosette. She hoped that would eventually drive Cosette to call off the relationship. After all, Eponine had to do a lot of disgusting crap to bribe the creep.

Marius was walking Cosette down to Orchestra, just like he did everyday. They looked so sickeningly cute with Marius cradling her books, and her chattering away about something she found fascinating in a novel she had cracked open in her pale arms. 

"Have you ever thought that maybe I don't want to do this anymore?" Montparnasse grumbled. It was a little hard to believe that he didn't have the thirst to rough up that dorky Marius. "It's not fun to beat on people when your heart's not in it." Eponine didn't have time for him complaining. He had to do it, it was part of the deal. Not wasting anytime, Eponine shoved Montparnasse right in from of the lovebirds.

Seeing a shady boy stumble out in front if them on their daily walk to Orchestra was a little shocking. It wasn't so startling for Cosette who just flinch at the sight of him, but Marius looked positively mortified. Eponine revelled in that, the boy she used to love so dearly, looking horrified was twistedly beautiful. 

"Lookie here!" Montparnasse sneered at the still couple, effortlessly cracking into his slimier side. As much as Eponine hated to admit it, Montparnasse was very useful. Who else could be so intimidating in designer jeans? Maybe Enjolras, but in a very different way. "It's the little faggot!" Anyone could tell he was talking directly to Marius by the way he looked like a wounded puppy and the fact that Montparnasse gave Marius a forceful shove.

"Excuse me?" Cosette narrowed her eyes at Montparnasse and stepped in front of him, not leaving an inch between them. "Who are you calling faggot? Do you even know what that word means? A faggot is a bundle of sticks that were used to burn people to the steak. When you say faggot, you are adding to that fire, you are screaming, 'Die, homo, die!' You are not helping society, or yourself by being an ignorant jerk. Being gay is not an insult because it does not make someone any less. Bullying people makes someone less." 

Silence. 

Montparnasse and Marius were both speechless, and Eponine couldn't help but swoon a but over how hot that was. 

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a class to get to." With a huff, Cosette strutted past a gaping Montparnasse, Marius awkwardly shuffling behind her. When Montparnasse backed up into Eponine, he was utterly confused. Clearly, no one had ever stood up to him like that. 

"What the hell just happened?" Montparnasse rasped. "Did that little tranny just talk to me like that?" His brows furrowed and he stalked off, trying to pick up the pieces of his shattered universe. 

Eponine was sure her job was done for the day, and Cosette and Marius were long gone, but just before she rounded the corner, she heard Cosette's chirp of a voice being unnervingly stoic. Something deep within her kept her from moving on, it was like she knew something important was about to happen. She needed to hear what Cosette was talking about. 

"Cosette, that was nothing. He doesn't bother me. He does it all the time." Marius sounded panicked. It made Eponine grin.

"I don't care if he does it all the time!" She responded shrilly. "I can't let you be bullied because of me! I don't want to hurt you, Marius. I love you." 

"You're not hurting me!" Marius insisted, his hands clamping down on her shoulders. 

The sound of Cosette sniffling gave it all away. Without even looking around the corner at the dispute, Eponine could tell that both of them were getting very emotional. Everything was falling into place. Her plan was panning out a lot quicker than she had anticipating and it was wonderful. 

"I can't do this to you!" Cosette's voice was shattered by tears. "I told myself that I would have to call this off the moment my gender effected you like this. I don't like to hear you being called awful things. I wouldn't wish my pain on you." 

"Please!" The squeaking of Marius' shoes let Eponine know that he was chasing after Cosette. He could picture him snagging her by the arm. "Please, don't break up with me. That will hurt me more than anything else can. I'll endure all the abuse, as long as I get to hold your hand." 

Eponine peeked around the corner just a touch to far and Cosette locked eyes with her. "We'll discuss this later." Eyes still on Eponine, Cosette kissed Marius tear streaked cheek. 

Hopefully, when they talked later, Cosette would wise up and break up with Marius. Then, maybe they could finally be together. Eponine would be waiting.

 

\---

 

"Finally!" Enjolras muttered to himself as he slammed his book shut on his bed. For the last few hours, Enjolras had been overworking himself by wrapping up the rest of his math homework and ignoring his buzzing phone. He was flopped on his stomach on his cozy, bed that he could not be bothered to make every morning. 

Usually, he didn't like doing work in his bed, but Cosette insist he stay in bed until his fever past. That morning he woke up, obviously sick, and tried to go to school with a temperature well above the heat of healthy body. Getting that past Valjean was no issue, however Cosette saw right through him and tucked him back into bed with antibiotics.

After neglecting the outside world all day in favor of doing his homework, Enjolras gave in to checking his messages. There were a few friendly (and one very urgent) reminders from Combeferre that school was a thing that had a tenancy to happen Monday through Friday, a snap chat from Joly of his cat, one dramatic selfie from Courfeyrac with a caption asking where Enjolras is, and something that actually matters, a text from Grantaire. 

 

Where r u???

 

The text was simple, and could have been sent from anyone, but since it was from Grantaire, his lips immediately twitched into a smile. Just as instantly, his thumbs typed out an equally uninspired response that he hoped would trigger the same reaction in Grantaire.

 

Cosette made me stay home :(

 

He wanted to hang out with Grantaire, so he didn't mention the fact that he had a high fever just hours ago. Besides, he was feeling much better. Grantaire wouldn't mind anyways, especially since Enjolras was home alone. Not that Enjolras intended on doing anything that would require his dad and sister being out of the house. He loved Grantaire, and knew Grantaire had, in fact, had sex in the past. It was no secret that he wanted Enjolras in that way either. Maybe someday, but Enjolras didn't think that night would be the night he would, as society says, 'lose his virginity.' 

His phone lit up. Grantaire had responded.

 

Are you sick?? Nvm b right over. Nice emoji btw

 

Again, his text rought an uncontrollable smile to Enjolras' face. The emoji bit was especially cute, considering Enjolras was not prone to adding emojis in his messages. It was grossly out of character, but so was being dizzily in love Grantaire. Of course, character developement was always something Enjolras liked in books, why couldn't he have some growth in his own story?

 

Bring coffee

 

The reply was almost immediate.

 

NOooooOOOooOoOoooO!!!!!!! Srsly Enj its 2 l8 4 coffee!

 

Enjolras couldn't help but huff out an airy laugh through his nose at Grantaire shortening every word, well except for that elongated 'NOooooOOOooOoOoooO!!!!!!!' 

Though Grantaire didn't live extremely far, Enjolras had enough time to change out of the pajamas Cosette had forced him back into before she went off to school. Part of him thought he should look cute for his boyfriend, but the other part knew he'd probably look better in pajamas Cosette had dressed him in than any outfit he could throw together by himself. He truly was a fashion delinquent. Sometimes he even thought he was worse than Jehan. At least Jehan could pull it off. So, he decided to take a casual approach and lounge in his pajamas. 

Sooner than Enjolras had anticipated, there was a knock on the door. He wanted to hurtle down the stairs to greet him enthusiastically, but not only was that not his style, his joints were tight from lying around all day. He hobbled down the steps over to the door and opened it. 

"Dude, you missed the best fist fight ever!" Grantaire looked amazing, even if he was just in tattered pants and an thin V-neck as usual. It didn't matter if he had shaved or not, Grantaire was always perfect to him. "It was a good day." Grantaire smiled, the crooked, bottom row of his teeth just barely visable. 

"But anyways, what's up with you?" It was curious that sobriety had actually made Grantaire a happier person, from what Enjolas had been reading, giving up a history of alcohol and substance abuse would cause Grantaire to be moody. So far, Grantaire hadn't snapped. Enjolras should be greatful, but he couldn't help but question it. 

"I am not sick, Cosette was overreacting." Enjolras rolled his eyes, like he could actually be mad at Cosette for taking care of him. 

"Damn, you have it bad." Grantaire said as he pushed back Enjolras' long hair and touched his forehead. "Maybe we should go upstairs." Grantaire was getting every close, his breath heated Enjolras neck. "We could play doctor." 

As sinfully sexy as Grantaire sounded, Enjolras stepped back. His body said yes, but he knew he wasn't ready. "Grantaire, I don't think I-"

"Say no more!" Grantaire beamed, which shocked Enjolras even more. This wasn't like Grantaire. He usually took this kind of stuff bad and would beat himself up for making Enjolras uncomfortable. Sometimes he'd even convince himself that he had ruined everything. Something was definitely off. 

"A-alright. We can still go upstairs though." Enjolras hesitantly grasped Grantaire's hand, as if he was nervous Grantaire would explode at any second. Just as cautiously, Enjolras scaled the stairs with him in tow. Grantaire followed behind happily. It was strange to have Grantaire near Courfeyrac levels of bubbly. 

The reached Enjolras' bedroom, and Grantaire stepped in front of him to slip onto the bed. Enjolras tried to shake off whatever Grantaire was up to with his frank out of character actions. "How long do we have?" Grantaire's voice was low and husky, a little more himself. That gave Enjolras a little smile as he straddled Grantaire's lap and lazily carded through his raven curls. 

"Not long enough." He murmured into Grantaire's neck as his lips pressed against his pale skin. 

Kissing was honestly one of Enjolras' favorite passtimes. Their lips met and moved rhythmically against each other, both sneaking breaths when they could. They had kissed so much, they had perfected the art. Slowly, Enjolras meanuvered Grantaire flat against the mattress. He had always been a leader, but he was always the submissive one of the relationship, even if he was the one lying on top of Grantaire. Curioisity got the best of Enjolras and his hands snuck up Grantaire's baggy shirt to claim Grantaire's abdomen. Grantaire moaned against Enjolras' lips in reaction to Enjolras groping Grantaire's hipbones. 

One thumb was especially adventurous and snapped the waist band of Grantaire's boxers. But, on the thumbs way out of Grantaire's pants, Enjolras felt something solid. Somthing that was not fleshy and soft, but cold and metal. His brow furrowed as he fished the rectangular object out of the waistband. When he saw the thing, in all it's heartbreaking, glory, Enjolras nearly burst into tears.

A flask. Grantaire was hiding a flask in his pants.

"What is this?" Enjolras asked accusingly. He wasn't sure if that was the best approach of handling the situation, but it was the natural way he supposed. Grantaire stayed quiet. "What is this?" He repeated even more forcefully. When Enjolras got mad, he could rattle the stoniest man. And tonight he was furious. 

"Is this why you've been acting strange? Because you're drunk all the time?" 

"No!" Grantaire said defensively, sitting straight up. "Just buzzed. You know me drunk anyways." He was right. Grantaire drunk was nothing knew, but him sipping from a flask for a buzz was new. 

Apparently, Grantaire was a different kind of drunk depending on the level of intoxication. When tipsy, Grantaire was a happy drunk, but when Grantaire was at his usual level, he was loud and obnoxious and rude. Enjolras knew sober Grantaire, he was the same as when he was managably drunk. He was an emotional basket-case who was desperate for love, and yet, he couldn't handle affection. Sure, he was cynical and blunt, but Enjolras adored him when he let his walls down. 

"I thought you were done with this!" Enjolras looked at the flask with tears welling in his enchanting blue eyes. "You told me- you promised me that you were sober. You were sober for me!" Enjolras rolled off Grantaire's lap and curled into a ball at the head of the bed rather than the foot where they were kissing.

"Enjolras, I'm-"

"Why can't I fix you." Combeferre had warned Enjolras not to make Grantaire his project, because him relapsing would kill Enjolras. He was right. 

"Am I not enough? I thought you were drinking because your life is so unbearable you needed to make it blurry. Do you need to make me blurry? Am I not making you happy enough for you to put the world in full focus? Is the real me so awful that you have to be somewhere else completely to tell me you love me." Enjolras was hyperventilating, all he could think of was not being enough, was not being Grantaire's new addiction. It reminded him of his birth father. 

Though he wasn't very old when he left, but he remembered why his father drank, or at least what he told Enjolras was the reason. It was because he wasn't enough, it was so he could pretend his son wasn't such a disappointment. He didn't want to be a disapointment to Grantaire. 

"Don't say that!" Grantaire snapped. "You are more than I ever thought I deserved. I love you more than any drink, and when I'm with you, I don't need alcohol to be happy." Enjolras swiveled around half way to gaze at Grantaire. 

"But when you aren't with me-" Grantaire scooted over to Enjolras and draped an arm around the sniveling boy. "I forget what happiness feels like. Sometimes when I drink, I can convince myself that your still with me. That my father is hitting me, that the pictures I draw of you are really you, that I don't feel like dying." It both terrifying and flattering that someone's happiness was dependent on him. It also presented a burden, but a burden Enjolras was glad to take on.

With a long sigh, Grantaire lied down and Enjolras crawled on top of him again, knees on the mattress beside either side of Grantaire's body. 

"Then you won't ever leave." Grantaire must have thought Enjolras was joking judging by how he smirked. "I'm serious. My dad- he could adopt you!" 

"You do realize that would make us brothers." 

"Not really!" Enjolras insisted. 

"Enjolras, it would be like you and Cosette dating," Grantaire said, perfectly deadpan.

"No! Cosette and I grew up together!" Enjolras argued. "We're in love. Besides, my dad can't really adopt you; you're 18. You'll just live with us and learn how to be happy all the time. We've got an extra bedroom and everything!" 

"Are you being serious?" Grantaire quirked a brow. Enjolras rollednhis eyes and kissed Grantaire. 

"Of course I am!" More than anything, Enjolras wanted his father to let Grantaire stay. Butnhow could he not?

 

\---

 

Courfeyrac was starting to worry. Marius was never out too late with Cosette as her curfew was relatively early by Courfeyrac's standards. Rarely did Marius miss dinner if he wasn't going out for a dinner date, but he had been with Cosettte all afternoon and he promised to be home by six. 

It was nearly midnight.

Courfeyrac had become so dependent on his cuddle buddy that he could hardly sleep without their bodies intertwined, the soothing sound of Marius' breath, pulsing like his inner metronome, the sensation of their bare skin pressed together when Marius' shirt would ride up in the middle of the night, or the feeling of being adored by a boy like Marius. Needless to say, Courfeyrac was tossing and turning in the sheets without him. 

His day must have replayed a hundred times over in his head since he snuggled into the bed. He thought about how he woke up with Marius in his arms, and how his first period teacher's fly was undone the entire class, and after school when he indulged in playing strip chess with Combeferre just to watch him squirm when Courfeyrac had him in check and he was only in his boxers. That day was not a bad day by any standard, but it would be better with Marius next to him. 

All the sudden, the door thrashed open. Marius came in Courfeyrac's room, just a shadowy figure in the dark, ready to punch a hole in the wall. 

"Marius!" Courfeyrac shot up in the bed and flicked on the table lap. "What's wrong?" Jaw clenched, Marius shoved the lamp off his bedside table, turning off in a clatter. 

"Shut up." Without warning, Marius pounced on top of Courfeyrac, agressively pinning him to the mattress. Marius lips clashed against Courfeyrac's with a roughness he certainly wasn't expecting, hands venturing the landscape of his body and tongue showing no signs of hesitance whatsoever. He was even frisky enough to rip of his own shirt to match Courfeyrac's lack of a shirt.

Courfeyrac wanted to ask what he was doing, but he didn't have the courage to end the dream he would undoubtedly wake up from at any moment. Just then, Marius dug his nails into Courfeyrac's back. 

That was no dream.


	22. Chapter 22

"I'm never coming out of here!" Cosette sobbed from the other side of her bedroom door. 

A little bit after midnight, Cosette scurried up the stairs and slammed her door shut behind herself. Enjolras instantly fled to her room to pound on the door, successfully ending his date with Grantaire. He left so they could have some privacy to talk seriously. Though Enjolras was thankful for his understanding, so far, they had only accomplished fighting over whether or not Cosette was going to open the door not. She was firmly set on not ever letting anyone in or out of her room. 

It was scary how after all those years, Enjolras was back there, sitting against the door, begging Cosette to let him help her. Back when Cosette was in the closet, she spent most of her time weeping in her room. One particular day stood out in Enjolras' mind though. 

They were both very young. Cosette hadn't gone through the shaving fiasco, and only her diary knew the truth. Their dad was off at the neighbors house at the time, leaving Enjolras home alone until Cosette got home from the sports camp Valjean had signed her up for. When she did come home, Enjolras was downstairs, on the couch with his nose shoved in a book. Cosette didn't even say hi before she rushed to her room as tears streaked her face. Instinctively Enjolras followed. She was always running to her room, and he knew she was hurting herself in there. 

He was tailing close enough to watch the door swing shut and kneel beside it. Inside, he could hear her crying out, the sound of her drawers being pulled open and heavy breathing between intense fits of tears. It pained him to know she was is so much agony. 

"Eugene!" He had pleaded, feeling his eyes start to water as well. "Eugene, I know what you're doing in there, and its not okay! Eugene?" Cosette didn't reply. "Eugene!" He begged, pounding on the door. "Eugene, please! Just let me in! I don't want to lose you! I can't lose you." All the signs pointed to Cosette, then Eugene, being gay in Enjolras young mind. Cosette was feminine and to Enjolras, and most of society, that was a dead give away for a boy being a flaming homosexual. Few people thought about the possibility of a feminine boy not being a boy at all which was nothing short of tragic.

"I want to help you." He whimpered. Still, Cosette kept quiet, leaving Enjolras only one option. "I know you're gay!" He blurted. "And it's okay! You'll always be my little brother, and I love you!" The silence that followed was a little more promising. He heard her shifting around inside and the door suddenly unlocked. Fondly, Enjolras could still remember the mouth-straining smile that came over him when Cosette opening the door. Even more vividly, Enjolras could feel the beam fall at the sight of a very distraught Cosette before him.

"Gay?" Her voice came out as a helpless quiver. "Little brother?" She question with a more forceful approach. "Are you blind, Enjolras?!" 

"Eugene-"

"No!" Cosette shook her head, face crumpled by intense crying. "Does this look like the arm of a brother?" Cosette flashed him her pale arm. It was scratched up to spell Girl. "I'm not a boy, I am not gay. I'm trans gender!" 

From that moment on, everything had changed. Or so Enjolras thought. Given the fact that he was slouched against her door again, Enjolras didn't see much progress in her grieving methods. 

"Go away!" She sniffled. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Cosette." Enjolras kept his voice calm as not to agrivate Cosette. "Not until you tell me what's wrong and how I can make it all better." 

Maybe she had grown from locking herself in her room. She came out without being angered out or hours of persuasion. She had learned the importance of opening the door. 

"I broke up with him." Her voice was all choked up and their was no pink barrette in her hair.

"You- why?" Without warning, Cosette lurched forward and wrapped her arms around him. The scars on her arms had mostly faded away. Thankfully, she was goodly enough to constantly reassure Enjolras that her cutting days were in the past. 

"Because I love him." No further explanation was needed. Cosette always had a policy that if her gender history ever effected someone in a negative way, she would have to spare them from the pain and end their relationship. She knew what it felt like to be knocked down, and she had to deal with harassment every day. Letting someone go through that because of her was like watching them drown when she had an extra life jacket. 

"It's okay." Enjolras rubbed her back soothingly. It was hard to comfort Cosette when he knew she could find an accepting person to be with, but she couldn't find someone who wouldn't get some hate for being with her. Not that it wasn't the most beautiful, selfless thing to save someone from the things she has to endure daily when they didn't have to, it was just that some people are willing to suffer a bit for her. Enjolras knew Marius was one of those rare people. 

"I'm here."

According to Cosette, the break had been pretty dramatic. They met up at the park, smack dab in the middle of their houses. It was drizzling outside, adding to the dark, breakup atmosphere. Marius was a nervous wreck, in fact, when he first saw her, he begged her not to break up with him. 

"Please, Cosette!" He had pleaded. "I love you."

"Marius, I can't do this to you. I can't let younger hurt!" 

"Then why are you putting me through this? Why are you breaking my heart? I'd do anything for you, and you're just giving up!"

"Do you think I want to do this?" Cosette had screamed. "Do you think I want this to end? No, Marius. I am so in love with you that I have to let you go."

"And when I come back?" Marius had willed her to finish the old saying. He wanted her to promise she'd take him back if he returned. 

Cosette gulped. "I'm sure we'll be great friends." 

The way Cosette had described it, it wasn't a particularly long exchange, however, Enjolras was sure that he wasn't getting the full story from Cosette. Still, he was just restful she opened that door. 

 

\---

 

In Elementary school, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were in seperatable. They'd always be together at recess, lunch, snuggled up in the corner during silent reading. Of course, Enjolras was always there and his company was appreciated and just as especial, but Courfeyrac was just different. Not better, and certainly not worse, just a little more Courfeyrac. Combeferre was sure he had been in love with him since Valentine's day in first grade.

Traces of snow still lingered in the crunchy, yellowed grass outside on the playground as the little first graders bounced about the classroom, stuffing little, store bought Valentine's into each other's boxes. Everyone was required to bring one for everyone, or no one, but the love struck six year holds generally brought one special, handmade Valentine for the lucky paste-eater they would ask to be their Valentine. Combeferre watched his box fill from the corner of his eye while he passed out his grocery bag full of Valentines. No one had presented him with a personalized Valentine yet. It wasn't very cheerful watching his friends find puppy-love and him just stand alone.

Enjolras was chasing away all female suitors and Courfeyrac was being asked by Jehan who had written a lovely poem on a heart. And by heart, Jehan cut out the shape of the human heart and drew on the details with crayon. Combeferre slumped into his plastic chair and watched Courfeyrac throw his arms around Jehan. He could feel his heart breaking; his Valentine was for Courfeyrac too. Then, Jehan took back the card and skipped off to another classmate. The card wasn't for Courfeyrac. 

But wait, it got even better. Courfeyrac hobbled over to Combeferre's desk with his trademark grin glistening. "Hi, 'Ferre!" He was holding something behind his back. "Do you wanna be Valentimes?" The card he whipped out from behind his back was a lopsided, purple heart with craft jewels sloppily glued onto the scribbly surface. On the front, Courfeyrac's squiggly handwrittening spelt: I love Ferret. 

Of course they exchanged Valentines and even made a tradition to make each other cards when February rolled around. They'd joke about playing daddy and daddy at recess and being the cutiest best friends on the planet since kindergarten. 

Now, Combeferre was about to ask Courfeyrac to be his for the first time that wasn't Valentine's day. He had been planning for weeks to ask Courfeyrac out, and for whatever reason, that day, at the lunch table he had made up his mind to finally pop the question. 

Courfeyrac never came to lunch on time, he lingered in the halls, making conversation with anyone and everyone who'd listen to him babble. That Combeferre to anxiously wait and pretend to be knterested in whatever Enjolras was rambling about today. He was sure it was important and a topic he'd probably love discussing, but he was having trouble focusing on anything other than running through what he was going to say to Courfeyrac when he finally arrived. 

The conversations, the laughter, even a brief disagreement between Enjolras and Grantaire were all just muffled murmuring in the back of Combeferre's mind as he zoned out. Courfeyrac was his only thought. 

All the sudden, everything came back into focus. What Combeferre saw made him wanted to disappear deep into his thoughts again. Courfeyrac looked dashing as ever in a plum cardigan, ukulele in hand and olive pants, but so did the boy he was holding hands with. It was Marius, all dolled up in his classic sweater vest look. 

Courfeyrac and Marius were holding hands.

It destroyed Combeferre to see Courfeyrac so happy with someone else, someone who he hadn't known basically all his life. Someone who didn't buy him his first pair of suspenders for his birthday back in middle school. Someone who didn't know him better than anyone else. Someone who wasn't Combeferre. It wasn't that Marius was at all a bad choice, or unworthy if Courfeyrac. Combeferre just always believed it would be him and Courfeyrac together.

"Big announcements fellow queers!" Courfeyrac cheered as he approached the table. Everyone went silent and examined the two holding hands. It was pretty clear that they were no longer platonic, but that raised the question: what the hell happened to Marius dating Cosette?

Combeferre's eyes flicked to Cosette to see if he could gather any clues from her face. By the way she mirrored the horrified look on Combeferre's own face, he could tell she was just as heart broken. It must have been a fresh, rough break up. That much was clear since yesterday it was Cosette holding Marius' hand. 

Sitting next to her, however was Eponine with a devilish grin plastered on her face. She appeared to be the only one who was totally excited. Everyone was accepting, but a little confused. Eponine, on the other hand looked like she had been waiting on the edge of her seat for Marius and Cosette to break up. 

"Marius and I are dating!" He looked at Marius with admiration filling his eyes. To Combeferre's dismay, Marius returned the loving gaze with those enchanting, does eyes of his. How could Combeferre compete?

Jehan was the first to hop off the bench and congradulate both if them with soft kisses to their cheeks. Others congradulated them from their seats, Bahorel almost criednhe was so proud, and Grantaire raise a toast with his tea to the happy couple, but Combeferre and Cosette stayed quiet. No one dared mention how Marius was literally just dating Cosette yesterday. The story would unfold whennthentime was right.

"You okay, 'Ferre?" Courfeyrac asked as everyone celebrated the new couple. All eyes darted to him, adding to the pressure of lying. 

"Me?" Courfeyrac nodded, looking very concerned. "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" The way he lied so effortlessly to the man he loved scared him, but he supposed protecting Courfeyrac was just second-nature. He didn't,t want to ruin this for Courfeyrac. His happiness was very important to Combeferre's, even more so than his own. 

The answer didn't seem to appease Courfeyrac as he was very intuitve , but he thought it best to save the interrogation for later. "But enough about me." Courfeyrac and Marius spear down across from Comebeferre at the lunch table. "What's up with everyone else?" 

"Heteronormitivity is destroying society." Enjolras grumbled, causing Grantaire to jokingly face-palm.

"It's been 792 years since I first died!" Jehan added. 

"Awesome, guys!" Courfeyrac faked enthusiasm. 

"Oh I go one!" Joly raised his hand. 

Musichetta sighed, "If this is about aids, I swear to-" 

"No! I'm having a Christmas party Friday!" He dug through his satchel until he fished out a bundle of bubble gum pink invitations. "I know it's late notice and sort of early for a Christmas party, but I figured since next week is opening night for the show, I should probably have it sooner rather than later, right?" He distributed the papers amongst the group.

"Ugly sweaters required." Jehan read out loud. "But I don't have any ugly sweaters." The entire table quirked a brow at Jehan. "What?" 

"What about the one you're wearing?" Eponine snickered, picking at the sweater Jehan was sporting, obviously from the 80s. 

"Secret Santa?" Feuilly fretted, probably concerned how he was going to afford that. 

"Yeah! I thought might be fun for us!" Joly pulled a hat out from underbthe table. "I even took the liberty of write everyone's names on little slips of paper, so we can even draw today!" 

"And this is supposed to be a secret, yes?" Cosette's voice was a little hoarse. 

"Right. No telling each other who you got." Joly drew a name and passed done the hat. Everyone looked pleased-or pretended-with who they drew. Especially Combeferre, who picked out the little slip of paper that read:

Courfeyrac.

Maybe he could woe him with the perfect gift.


	23. Chapter 23

Part of secret Santa was sneaking notes into the person you got's locker, and it was without a doubt the best part of secret Santa. At least it was for Courfeyrac. 

Everyday when he got to school, Courfeyrac would open his locker with the giddiness of a child tearing into a stocking on Christmas morning. When he flung the door open, paper cranes would flutter to the floor. But the note inside was better than the cranes falling out of his locker. Nothing had ever lifted his spirits like those notes. The love, the personality, the puns that the writer had carefully integrated into their notes made Courfeyrac blush like mad. Not even Marius could make him feel like that. 

Frankly, that was a little frightening to Courfeyrac. He didn't doubt his feelings for Marius, even though it had been a very short relationship, but who ever this Secret Santa was, Courfeyrac was definitely crushing on them. 

"Hey." Combeferre greeted from his locker which was right next to Courfeyrac's. Still on a high from diving into his secret Santa's note, Courfeyrac whipped his head in Combeferre's direction. He was about to shove the note in Combeferre's face, but he took one look at Combeferre and was stunned. He didn't know why, he had seen Combeferre before and in much more dapper clothing, or lack thereof. For some reason, he was just realizing how sexy that whole nerd thing was. He was like Marius with hipster glasses, so like eight times more attractive. 

Whoa! Back up, Jack! This is your best friend your talking about. And you have a boyfriend!

"Are you okay?" Combeferre asked, snapping Courfeyrac out of his inner turmoil. God, and he was so connected to him. They were more in sync than a nineties boy band!

Shut up! Oh my God, shut up!" 

"Me?" Courfeyrac countered. "I'm just dandy! My secret Santa is the best by the way. If you know who they are, tell them I'm in love with them, okay?" Courfeyrac walked off, letter clutched to his chest just to inhale it's scent. It smelled oldly like one of the sweaters Courfeyrac stole from-

Shit. Courfeyrac, no matter how attractive he is, or how perfect his hair, or how compatible they are- 

There you go again! Seriously, Marius is your boyfriend, not Combeferre.

Why did Courfeyrac have to have such a complicated love life?

 

\---

 

It was probably the most awkward thing Cosette had ever done. They were running through the finale one more time before Mr. Palmer wrapped up rehearsal with a powwow full of what he thought were inspirational messages about getting enough sleep and drinking plenty of water. The finale had never poepsed a problem for Cosette before, even with the kiss.They learned it a few weeks back, perfected it and never revisited until that Friday. The only difference: she wasn't dating Marius; Courfeyrac was. 

Kissing Courfeyrac had never fazed her, or been a problem with Marius in the past, but now that Courfeyrac was her boyfriend's friend, rather her ex's boyfriend, it was a bit awkward. During the song leading up to the kiss in question, all Cosette could think of was how Courfeyrac's lips had been on Marius'. Not the stunning choreography all around her, or the lyrics that just automatically fell out of her mouth, or Mr. Palmer prematurely celebrating in front of the stage. Just the fact that Marius had moved on so fast and she had to kiss his rebound. 

"Just you and me!" Courfeyrac sang, gazing into her eyes. She had to admit, Courfeyrac was an amazing performer. He could actually make her believe he was in love with her. It made her wonder if he was imagining he was singing to Marius like she was. 

"And I will be-" Cosette responded, trying her best to stay in character. 

"Part of your world!" The entire cast finished her line and filled the theatre with their magically sound. At that, Courfeyrac leaned in and pressed his lips against Cosette's. It took all she had to pretend she wasn't repulsed by it all. Courfeyrac was honestly a fantastic kisser, but no matter how good he was, Cosette couldn't get over that he had been kissing her boyfriend. It made her sick. 

Literally.

Cosette shoved Courfeyrac off her suddenly and hurried off the stage. She kept he hand under her mouth to catch the cripple of throw-up already seeping out of her mouth. At least she made it to a garbage can off stage in time. If she got puke on her costume, that would be the end of her. 

"What was that?!" Mr. Palmer squawked from the audience. Suddenly feeling very guilty, Cosette hobbled back onto the stage with a fake smile spread across her vomit covered face. Everyone certainly looked stunned, none so much as Courfeyrac who seemed absolutely mortified under his spotlight. That wasn't helpful at making her feel any better about booking it off the stage to throw her cookies. 

"Lead meat puppet!" He chasitized Cosette. "That is not in the script, nor was it at all in character!" 

"I know, I'm sorry." Cosette wiped away the traces of puke left on her otherwise flawless face. "It won't happen again." 

"It won't happen again will not make this incident disappear!" Mr. Palmer was very much in edge at the time since opening night was looming, but Cosette thought he was going a little overboard. He ripped off his ascot. "Rehearsal is dismissed." Without his usual end-of-rehearsal pep talk, Mr. Palmer stormed out with a dramatic flare the kids should really be used to. 

When they were left alone, the cast glared at Cosette before making their own histrionic exits, except for Courfeyrac. He was frozen at center stage, just looking at Cosette like a wounded animal.

"I'm sorry, Courfeyrac." She strode over to him in seek of an apologetic hug, but he backed away.

"No, I get it." Courfeyrac pursed the lips Cosette had just deemed unkissable. "I wouldn't want to kiss me either."

The door creaked open, flooding the darkened audience with light from the fully powered hall outside. Marius walked in with curious glimmering in his beautiful grey eyes. 

"Hey, are you ready to go?" He asked, still very interested as to why his boyfriend and ex girlfriend were the only people left in the entire theatre. 

"Yeah." Without another word, not even a wave goodbye, Courfeyrac bounded off the stage and up the stairs to Marius. Jealousy boiling deep within her, Cosette watch as Marius and Courfeyrac shared a perfect kiss before joining hands and skipping out of the theatre. Neither of them even gagged.

Cosette, all alone on the stage, plopped down, smack dab in the middle. She thought breaking up with him was for the best and she hated that for Marius that was true, but not for her. Feeling the tear gather in her eyes, her spotlight flickered off. 

 

\---

 

"You're never gonna get used to that are you?" Courfeyrac couldn't help but chuckle at a very wobbly Marius as they walked into Target. Courfeyrac took Marius to the store on his Vespa. By the way Marius was clinging onto Courfeyrac for dear life, Courfeyrac could tell he was scared out of his mind.

"Nope." Marius unsteadily walked to the cart chorale and wheeled a bright red cart with a discrete Target logo on the front. It puzzled Courfeyrac that his boyfriend would take out a cart. They weren't buying too much, just their secret Santa gifts. It wasn't like they were going to raid the produce department. 

"Why're you grabbing a cart?" Smirking fliratiously, Courfeyrac stepped in front of his path and gripped the front. 

Marius pondered that for a moment. Clearly, he wasn't certain what possessed him to pull a cart out of the chorale. "Uh- I don't know, actually."

An idea popped into Courfeyrac's head just as Marius said that. "Luckily-" He began as he swiftly climbed into the main basket of the cart. "I do." 

"Not uh," Marius said. "You can't-"

"Watch me." Courfeyrac scooted over to Marius end of the cart, straightened up, and pecked him on the lips. Rolling his eyes, Marius pushed the cart out into the busy part of the store.

The Christmas season tended to effectively fill every store to twice it's maximum capacity. That gave Courfeyrac the perfect opportunity to embarrass Marius in front of an unusually large crowd. Marius was never embarrassed to be seen with Courfeyrac, he was very proud to call such a great person his boyfriend, but pushing a senior in a cart flustered him quite a lot. The looks he got from people brought joy to Courfeyrac's devious heart. 

But speaking of Courfeyrac being a senior, that was the source of much concern for the couple. First, there was the issue of being socially accepted. Dating someone of the same sex wasn't unheard of at their school, but still pretty taboo. Not only did they both identify as male, they were in different grades. In high school, the difference between a senior and a sophomore was night and day. It was one thing for a hot junior to level up to an above average senior, but a geekily adorable sophomore usually had trouble scoring a member of the opposite sex in their own grade level. Courfeyrac and Marius' relationship was an anomaly in the world of high school. 

Then there was the worry about what they were going to do when Courfeyrac graduated. Without regular communication via Skype, text, Snap chat and good, old fashion face-to-face contact, their relationship would certainly fail. Plus, Courfeyrac wasn't sure what would become of Marius once he went off to college. Maybe his moms would keep him around, but that might be a bit uncomfortable for Marius. Still, it was better then being shipped off to military school.

Marius wheeled Courfeyrac over to the electronics department as he had drawn Bossier and Courfeyrac suggested he get him a mine craft gift card. Those could be acquired in the video game section. Without Courfeyrac, he'd honestly have no gift ideas for any member of their friend circle. He really hadn't bonded with any of them, being so caught up with his Cosette drama.

Courfeyrac reached out from the cart to snag a gift card. "To the clothing department!" He announced after pressing his lips to Marius cheek and reveling in the blush that glowed on his handsome face. Courfeyrac loved dating Marius more than anything, he was by far his favorite boyfriend yet.

Just to get a giggle out Courfeyrac, Marius spun the cart around until he got dizzy and Marius gave in by parking the cart in front of him. Again, he kissed him, milking that blissful honeymoon phase they were in. It made his heart flutter knowing that Marius wasn't ashamed to kiss Courfeyrac in public, something Courfeyrac could never imagine doing with confidence in the early stages of accepting his sexuality. 

As they made theirs way to the clothing department, something caught Marius eye. It was display on the outer edge of a shelf. On the display, there were rows upon rows of packaged barrettes. It seemed innocent enough to Courfeyrac until he saw an entire pack of pink ones. The kind you'd see clipped in a little girl's ratty hair. The kind that Cosette kept with her at all times. It broke Courfeyrac's heart the way Marius looked at them longingily. 

This wasn't the first time Marius had shown signs of missing Cosette, and Courfeyrac doubted it would be his last. In fact, Marius cried the night before when they watched RuPaul's Drag Race. It made Courfeyrac wonder if Marius had rushed into a relationship with him or if he was still hung up with Cosette. Sometimes Marius felt only half there.

For secret Santa, Courfeyrac had got Jehan. It was only natural that he get him the tackiest sweater he could find on such short notice. Once they arrived in the clothing section, Courfeyrac hopped out of the cart. He wanted to pick his gift on his own two feet. 

"What about this one?" Marius showed him a fuzzy purple one with a black outline of a poodle on the front. Courfeyrac admired the store, but he guided the sweater back to it's rack. It just wasn't right. 

Then he saw it. Up on the top row of sweaters dangling from the wall, there was a sweater that screamed Jehan. It was light grey and white checkered with a yellow light bulb in the center. Tacky and it didn't make any sense! It was so Jehan. The only trouble was the stick that was used to lower the hug items was missing. It wasn't to high, so Courfeyrac told Marius to jump up an snag it. Of course that went to hell. Marius just barely missed it every time. 

"I'll go look for a-" 

"No!" Courfeyrac interjected, his determination apparent. "It's too late for that. Wehave to get it down! Let me on your shoulders." 

Marius hesitated. It didn't seem like a particularly safe idea, but he obeyed Courfeyrac. As Marius crouched down, Courfeyrac climbed up his back and positioned himself atop his boyfriend's shoulders. When Marius straightened up, Courfeyrac was at the perfect height to reach up and grab the sweater. He stuck his tongue out in concentration and clawed the sweater into his arms. Triumphantly, Courfeyrac celebrated the little victory. 

"We did it!" He cried as Marius lowered him into his arms."And I have you to thank, my little potato."

"Potato?" Marlins wrinkled his nose, still holding Courfeyrac against his body so that they were eye level with each other for once. 

"I don't know. It just sort of happened." He shrugged. "But I can already tell we're going to be a great team." Courfeyrac kissed Marius on the nose, deciding not to worry about the future. He had Marius in that moment and that was all that should matter.

 

\---

 

Sometime after Joly popped in the eighth Christmas movie, Feuilly yawned and said, "Alright losers, I have work in four hours, so I'm gonna head out pretty soon. Can we exchange gifts now?"

All the guests shifted to grab their gifts, every gift wrapped at different levels of neatness. Bossuet's for example, was a mess of tape and crumpled wrapping paper, while Cosette's was cleanly folded with discrete uses of tape and a decorative ribbon as the crown jewel. Feuilly's, on the other hand was in a brown lunch sack. 

Everyone circled up on the floor, creating a festive ring of ugly Christmas sweater clad bodies. It was truly a delight for Joly to see all his best friends, and then some people who he didn't really know, dressed in god awful sweaters. He was going to miss this when they all went their desperate ways for college. Nights like that were going to be much less frequent, but he didn't want to think about that. He wanted to think about soaking in the last months with his gang before they got their diplomas and left.

"Whose first?" Joly asked, looking at all his friends smiling faces. Everyone was a bit tired. Jehan's hot cocoa had a tendancy to make people drowsy and the cookies Cosette prepared weren't sugary enough to give anyone a buzz. Still, Joly wouldn't trade a lazy, Christmas movie night for a night of intense partying. He liked the atmosphere of an intimate get together. 

"I'll go!" Courfeyrac volunteered. He scooted to the center of the circle, gift in hand and stood. "I had the lovely Jehan. I hope you enjoyed the notes I left in your locker." Part of a secret Santa's duty was to slip kind notes in the cracks of their friend's locker over the course of the week. Courfeyrac's notes were mostly cutesy puns. Jehan accepted the gift eagerly. It was a golden gift bag, overflowing with purple tissue paper. He effortlessly plucked all the tissue paper out of the bag and groped the sweater. 

"Oh my Buddha!" Jehan gasped at the gawdy sweater. "I shall wear it under all my clothes. Thank you, friend." Jehan and Courfeyrac shared a quick hug before he took Courfeyrac's place in the center of the circle.

"Hello, I'm Jehan. I'm a sex addict." 

"Jehan?" 

"Right, sorry." Jehan revealed a green box. "This gift is for Feuilly." For the notes, Jehan had given Feuilly an assortment of originally and famous poems. Feuilly unwrapped the green paper to find a whopping 50 dollar gift card to Starbucks. 

"Wow! Thanks, Jehan!" Feuilly flung his arms around his frail secret Santa. "I had the pleasure of getting a gift for Marius!" A blush flooded Marius face as Feuilly handed him a brown lunch sack. Inside was a gorgeous scarf with one finally note on a yellow sticky note that matched the previous, short compliments. 

Marius gave Bossuet his gift card, Bossuet gave Musichetta a pair of gloves, Musichetta had an empty diary for Cosette, she gave Joly an ornate tea cup, Joly had a DVD of some seminar for Enjolras, Enjolras gifted Eponine a cute wallet that Cosette had obviously picked out, Eponine handed a book on sobriety to Grantaire, who gave Bahorel a baseball cap, and Bahorel gave Combeferre some book he had been meaning to read about moths or something. 

Combeferre was the last to give up his gift and Courfeyrac was the only one without one. It was pretty obvious who he had. Courfeyrac reflected on all the letters Combeferre snuck into his locker. They were so beautifully written, he assummped Jehan had him. At the same time, they were so personal and Jehan wasn't much to be upfront and personal in letters. He used metaphors instead of coming right out and telling someone that they're the most amazing person under the sun. Each letter made him feel so special, it was sort of exciting to know whom was behind melting his heart daily. 

"As you can probably figure out, I got Courfeyrac." Combeferre showed off a well wrapped little box. "And I just wanted to say, I had so much fun being your secret Santa. You really deserve a lot more appreciation than you get. You hold us all together and, I think I speak for us all when I say, I love you." A weak smile flashed once on his face as Courfeyrac took the box. 

The look on Courfeyrac's face when he saw the gift was priceless. It was simple, handmade, and absolutely perfect. It was a big, block letter C, decorated with old pictures of them together, notes, puns, and memories they shared. Nothing could've been more special.

Courfeyrac did not hesitate to lunge forward and hug him tightly. "Thank you, thank you!" He even kissed Combeferre's cheek. 

If only he knew that under a picture of them on the first day of second grade was a note that told Courfeyrac: I'm in love with you, and that scares the shit out of me.


	24. Chapter 24

All that Friday, Cosette was trembling. She had never been so nervous for an opening night in her life. The high school's production of Little Mermaid was not her first time on the stage. Most of her childhood memories revolved around a little stage downtown in an old theatre with her fellow cast mates. As much as she missed that, she couldn't help but feel a tad jittery.

The last time she performed, she was still living as a boy. Luckily, she was blessed with the role of Peter Pan. Though the part was undeniably male, it was a Broadway tradition that the role be portrayed by a female. The irony of her playing Peter Pan was twistedly hilarious. She could still remember the girl playing Wendy's pig tails twirling around her fingers and the lost boys tackling her after opening night to congradulate her on a job well done. 

Things were different now. She was seen as the girl she truly was and that terrified her. Word was out that she was assigned male at birth, so she didn't doubt that they'd be more interested in what was between her legs off stage then her quest to get them on stage. She didn't want to be the trans gender who was believable when portraying a woman. She wanted to be the woman who people couldn't believe was trans gender. That was very important to her. 

 

On top of that, Cosette was having a heavily dysphoric day, so her mood was pretty shitty and one snide comment, mistake on the stage, or seeing Marius might set her over the edge. 

A crew member sat her down in a canvas, director chair in front of a mirror lined with light bulbs. Working diligently, the crew member taped a mic over her thick make-up. She was worried that the tape would cling to stray hairs that peeped out of her red wig, but the crew member seemed to know what she was doing. 

"There you go!" Before Cosette could thank her, the crew member stomped off pompously. That left her to check herself out in the mirror and take in a deep, cleansing breath. Over and over in her head, Cosette tried to encourage herself. Anything to ease the flaring nerves. So far, it wasn't working out well. 

She climbed off her chair and strolled over to the velvety curtain. It was so soft in her hands, she imagined it was how a cloud would feel if it had any weight at all. Even though she knew how unprofessional it was, Cosette peaked out to look at the audience. The house lights were still up, indicating that she had plenty of time before the ovature rumbled from inside the orchestra pit. Quickly, Cosette scanned across the entire theatre until her eyes hit a clump of faces she recognized. Just as planned her father, brother and all their friends were all sitting together. She wasn't sure were she stood in that group now that Marius and her broke up. It was clear they were all there for Courfeyrac.

However, something was a little off. Their was an empty seat in the middle of their territory. She did a quick head count to see who was missing, but she wasn't fast enough to finish her little role call. Someone snuck up behind her, causing her to lose count.

"Hey." A painfully fimiliar voice whispered from behind her. The night was already stressful enough she didn't need to talk to Marius. 

"Marius, I don't have time for this." Cosette gathered up her makeup and hastily solve them into her bag. 

"I just wanted to wish you good luck-" He paused, but he didn't sound to be waiting for a response, just the courage to push on. "And if you know were Courfeyrac is." 

Cosette liked to pretend she was over Marius, she liked to tell herself that his relationship with Courfeyrac didn't bother her in the slightest. In other words, Cosette was a chronic liar. Marius just coming to her o find Courfeyrac burned. It was like they were suddenly strangers that had to pretend that they didn't use to know everything there was to know about each other. She hated that if they passed in the hall, no one would think anything had happened between them. 

"Yeah, he's over on stage right." Marius didn't bother with an awkward side hug, he just went around to the other wing. It hurt to watch him walk away. He should be asking Courfeyrac where Cosette was. This was all wrong. She regretting calling it of so bad. Still, it was for the best. For Marius at least. It shouldn't matter that Cosette wasn't benefiting from this. The world didn't revolve around her, other people's happiness should be priority. No matter how many times she told herself that, the emptiness was still not filled.

From where she stood, Cosette could see to the other side of stage where Courfeyrac was powdering his face one final time. Marius came around the corner and surprised him with a hug. As their lips met, Cosette could feel her heart clench. That used to be her and she foolishly gave it up. Right then, Cosette probably would have stopped at nothing to turn back time and never break his heart. She couldn't believe she ran away from her problems like that. She should have helped him instead. 

Cosette only had enough time to pace back and forth a few times before the stage manager made an announcement on the backstage inner come. 

"Hello!" A crackly voice stretched to all corners of the backstage areas, without being detected by the audience. "It is 6:56 and the seats are filling up fast. We will be starting in four minutes. Again, we will be starting in four minutes. Good luck guys!" The stage manager hung up the phone abruptly. 

It was comforting and also very ominous to have someone's voice seeping out of the bricks. It made her feel less alone. 

"Last call for everyone in Fathoms Below." The stage manager reminded. "I repeat, this is your last call if you are in Fathoms Below."

The remaining minutes ticked by slowly as Cosette ran through her lines over and over again. She marked all the dance numbers and even hummed her songs. She couldn't mess this up. Every time she stumbled over a line, she cursed herself. Every time her choreography was sloppy, she would roll her eyes at herself. Every time Cosette was pitch in the least bit, she got annoyed and would correct herself. It was a method she found pretty effective

"We need everyone up for Fathoms below. Everyone up for Fathoms below. Thank you!" Cosette could her irratation in the usually chipper voice of their stage manager. Obviously, some cast memebers weren't in their places and that was worrisome for all involved in the show. 

"Alright, cast and crew!" The inner come suddenly interrupted her speed-through. "As you can hear, Mr. Palmer just finished his introduction and the show is starting. If you are in Fathoms Below, you should be on stage. Thank you." 

Cosette was watching the chorus get situated behind the curtain. They were all posed to frame Courfeyrac who looked like he slept with a hanger in his mouth the way he was beaming. It made Cosette jealous. Courfeyrac had Marius. He had a reason to smile. She did not. 

 

\---

 

From the moment the orchestra struck first chord of the overature to the very last, wailing note of the finale, the performers had the audience completely capitivated. No one dared leave to use the bathroom in fear of missing one of the thousands of magnificent moments. 

Cosette was flawless and she knew for a fact it was a performance she would be proud of for a long time. The hours she had clocked during rehearsal were well worth it when her bow brought the audience to their feet. She didn't even gag when she kissed Courfeyrac!

Still, it didn't feel right. The audience seemed to enjoy her performance, yet she didn't feel right about. Sure, she was always right on pitch, the little dancing required of her was executed well, and her acting was less of acting and more of being, but she didn't feel there. The audience was there, the lights were flooding the stage, even her body was there, however her mind was somewhere else. All she could think of was Marius. When she sung, she sang about him. When she danced, she was dancing with him. When she kissed Courfeyrac, it was Marius' lips. 

The first person to congradulate her after the show was her father. He and Enjolras were in the wings as soon as bows were over to hug her. "Honey!" Valjean gushed. "You were breathtaking!"

"Oh, thank you!" From behind their father's back, Enjolras held out a bouquet which Cosette gladly accepted. "I'm so glad you came!" She moved on to Enjolras. The hug didn't last long, he was quick to drop a kiss on her head and pounce Grantaire. 

"Cosette!" Jehan called as he fought through the bumbling crowd of performers, crew members and overenthusiastic fans from the audience.

"Jehan!" She worked her way through the mass. "Did you like the show?" Cosette asked while they embraced. He smelt of a mixture of weed and ultra flowery perfume like usual. 

"Of course I did!" He cheered. "You were the best mermaid ever!" 

For a while, Jehan and Cosette bonded over their shared love for musical theatre. Jehan critiqued the show gently, but still insisted it was positively flawless. Cosette wouldn't mind if he picked apart ever aspect of the show mercilessly, as long as he was there with her. All of Enjolras' friends, friends she couldn't rightfully call her own, were chatting up Grantaire. She could see Marius, but Courfeyrac was out of sight.

They continued conversing as the crowd began to thin enough for Cosette to make her way to the dressing room. Jehan followed her that far before giving her cheek a kiss goodbye.

"See you Monday!"

Due to insufficient funding during construction, the school could only afford one dressing room. The state later allowed them enough funding to put some extra vanities in the wings. So everyone's costumes hung on the same rack, in the same coed dressing room. Even with the entire cast sharing, most people had cleared out. A senior, who was still bitter about a freshman taking the lead role, stomped out in her street clothes, leaving her in what appeared to be an empty dressing room.

She slowly removed her costume and exchanged it for her street clothes. Her wig came off next. Carefully, she draped the red curls over a styrofoam head that had a masking tape lable with her name scrawled on it. As she worked the knots out of her hair, she realized something. She didn't have her barrette! At first, she panicked, searching high and low for the barrette. It wasn't laying on the counter and it hadn't fell on the floor. Then, she tried to remember the last time she saw. As it turned out, the barrette had been missing for quite sometime. At least she hadn't remembered clipping it in her locks for the last few days. So, she resigned. For such a good performance, it was shaping up to be a pretty crumby day.

With a heavy sigh, Cosette plopped down on the counter and, with eyes squinted shut, she leaned her head against the dusty mirror. She was emotionally, physically, and emotionally drained. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.

The door creaked open, startling Cosette. When her eyes bulged open, Marius was standing in the door way. He looked a little embarrassed to be in the dressing room, but still lovely to Cosette. He was cradling a huge bouquet of pastel flowers with rods of baby's breath intermingled in the roses. An involuntary pang of hope struck her in the chest. The flowers had to be for her. She was under the idealistic impression that Marius was there to get her back. 

"Marius?" She could feel her heart racing. Everything was about to get back to good. The world would finally go back to a beautiful place and she wouldn't have time to think about the tragedy that is human existence because she was too enthralled with Marius. 

"Hey." He kept his hypnotic eyes glued to the stick-on tile as he awkwardly rocked back and forth on his feet.

"What're you-" She began, the words dying in her mouth when she was interrupted.

"Marius!" Courfeyrac emerged from seemingly out of no where. 

That's when it clicked. Marius was happy, and that happiness was not dependent on Cosette like her's was on him. The way Marius gave him that bouquet broke her heart. It was more than jealousy, it was betrayal. How could he have gotten over her so fast when the break up rattled him so much in the beginning? The way Markups peeked from behind Courfeyrac's shoulder at her destroyed her. All she could think about was how she had always loved him, but that wasn't enough. She had to let him love her.

Then she snapped. 

 

\---

 

She wasn't sure how long it had took her to flee the school and sprint through a mild storm all the way home, but she knew it was long enough to leave her hair dripping with rain. Or maybe it wasn't raining, it was all the same really. It could have been her tears blurring her vision. Either way, she stumbled up the stairs to her room. She tore the door open and when she slammed it shut, she locked it. 

It had been so long since someone had pushed her over the edge like that. She almost had forgotten the box under her bed that was reserved for occasions like this. It was a secret box, not even Enjolras knew about it. When she was much younger, Cosette drew all over a shoe box. She take her black sharpie and draw a cat or something lame, she used the ink to draw out all her feelings. She drew frilly bras she desired, wrote out dark, depressing quotes, doodled a sad little girl looking in the mirror and seeing a boy, and all sorts of meaningful scribbles.

Inside the box, she kept a book of poems that never failed to bring her to tears, an oragami flower crown, a few mix tapes with heart wrenching songs, and most importantly, her razors. She had promised Enjolras she would never cut again, but sometimes the world got to be too much. Sometimes she hated herself so much, that she wouldn't mind her hand slipping and the razor splitting open something important. Nothing about her was important anymore. Death would be a welcomed change. 

Still, she didn't want to end it. She didn't want to feel like this. Really, all Cosette wanted was someone to hold her and tell her she was worth something. She didn't turn to the razors right away, she popped in a tape and began to pace. 

There had to be something she could do to clear her mind. After all, she didn't want die feeling so all alone. The first idea that came to her was to call Enjolras and ask for help. Not only is it important to accept help, but it is important to seek it when it's not offered. To keep the demons at bay, Cosette just tried to focus on the ringing of the phone. She knew nothing but that sound. She didn't think about the awful thoughts in her mind, she just thought about how it was going to end. How everything ends. 

She got his voicemail. "Hi, Enjolras." Cosette sniffled, trying desperately to hide the fact that she was in so much pain. "I was just calling to say I don't want to die tonight, but I wouldn't care if I did. If that makes any sense? Can you please call me back? I really just need to talk to someone." She hung up and scrolled through her contacts for her next choice. 

"Dad?" She said to another answering machine. "I'm really scared. I feel myself slipping." It was a terrifying thing to leave in a voicemail, but Cosette didn't know what else to do. She did feel her self slipping. This crippling dysphoria and her broken heart was turning her into someone she hated. Someone who hated herself, someone with zero self-control, someone who remembered where she hid the razors. 

"Jehan! Hi!" Cosette hastily greeted a third voicemail box. "You know how you're supposed to destroy the things that destroy you? What if that thing is me? What if I'm my own worst enemy. I mean I've already kind of killed myself once. What's one more time?" She doubted anyone would miss her anyways. Again, she hung up abruptly. 

"Grantaire. It's Cosette." It was clear in her voice that she was weeping. When Grantaire got the message, he'd known she was in serious pain. "I'm beginning to think maybe suicide is the answer. If you have any thoughts, I'm really interested in hearing them. Thanks! Bye!" Beginning to think everyone was ignoring her, Cosette tried again.

"Hey, Eponine." Cosette left another message as she rummaged through the box for a razor. Turning it over in her palm, Cosette examined it with watery eyes. "I don't have the strength to go on anymore, so could you call me back and pretend you care?" Her lipped twitched, tears streaking her cheeks. She was just another nothing, she shouldn't expect anyone to care. Scanning her contacts for someone to talk to made her realize just how little friends she had. There was only one other person she cared to call. She didn't need to be talked out of what she was going to do that night, her mind was made up. 

She got his voice mail. It was the first time she was thankful the person she contacted didn't answer. It would be a whole lot easier talking to him than with him in this case. 

"Hi, Marius. I just wanted to let you know that what I'm going to tonight is not your fault and that I love you very much. You are the reason I hung on for so long." It was true. Even at a young age, around the time she met and fell in love with Marius, she was suicidal, but the little boy had given her hope. Then when she was taken away to a better life, her father and Enjolras had given her the affection she needed to continue. The demons returned and she was put on track to switch sexes, easing the pain. And now they were returning, and she was sick of relying on others for her happiness. She couldn't go through life like that because that's not real happiness. 

"So, I guess this is goodbye. Forever." She clicked the end button. The razor in her hand gravitated to her wrist and began to cut. 

One scar for the woman who abused me.

One scar for the mother I never truly knew.

One scar for every time I was called 'he'. 

One scar for the kids who laughed at me at Sunday school.

One scar for the dress I was caught in. 

One scar for every time Enjolras pounded on my door.

One scar for the girl who was afraid to love me.

One scar for the little boy I wanted dead.

One scar for when I was afraid to be me.

One scar for the fact that I let myself get this far.

One scar for every time I looked in the mirror and cringed.

One scar for coming out to her dad.

One scar for the friends that held my hand.

One scar for every slur I've ever heard.

One scar for every smile I've faked.

One scar for the people who never feel safe enough to come out.

One scar for the people who take their own lives before they come out.

One scar for every song that made me cry. 

One scar for the kisses under the umbrella.

One scar for the dreams I had for me and him that will never be.

One scar for the battle between wanting to wake up with no memory of him and wanting to wake up with him by my side that will finally end tonight.


	25. Chapter 25

No one ever tells you how still the Emergency Room is in a hospital. No one describes for you the unnerving silence, only disturbed by the soft beeping of heart monitors. No tells you that the only thing emptier than the halls is your heart. No one talks about how the hushed voices of the doctors makes your stomach drop. No one ever explains that you want to hear news so bad, but you're too afraid that you won't like what you hear. At least, no one shared any of this with Enjolras.

He sat alone in the hall with his head in his hands. Maybe he wasn't by himself, but he was definitely alone. Most of his friends were gathered in the hospital with him. Everyone was concerned about Cosette, that was a given, but they couldn't help her. They could, however, help Enjolras, so that's why they went out of their way to get to the hospital.

"Enjolras." Combeferre lifted Enjolras chin gently. "You need to eat." Just another friendly reminder from Combeferre. Somehow Combeferre knew Enjolras hadn't eaten, this sort of thing didn't surprise him. It also didn't surprise him that Combeferre brought him his coffee order and a croissant. 

"I'm not hungry." Enjolras offered him a mournful smile and waved him off. It wasn't that Enjolras didn't feel his stomach rumbling, he just didn't feel like it was an appropriate time down a coffee. He could very well lose his sister. Eating could wait. Worrying could not. 

"Enjolras!" It was Grantaire. He lived the furthest from the hospital, so Enjolras understood that he didn't arrive the same time he did. But that was two hours ago. Why Grantaire wouldn't drop everything to be there for not only Cosette, but for his boyfriend, bewildered Enjolras. 

Grantaire's clunky footsteps and panting alarmed everyone, even a few nurses peeked out to check on the camotion. Sensing he wasn't fitting the mood, Grantaire slowed down to a calm walk before scooting next to Enjolras on his bench. "Hey." 

"Hey." Enjolras' voice was a little tougher than a whimper, but not by much. He really couldn't help it. He felt like shit. 

"Sorry I wasn't here sooner. I was in the car as soon as you called, I swear." Grantaire promised. Enjolras couldn't find the strength to fashion a response, instead he just nodded, hoping that would suffice. "Anyways, how you holdin' up?" An arm slung over his shoulder that he didn't suspect to be as comforting as it was. 

"Fine." He felt so unbearably cliche saying he was fine when really he was so dejected he couldn't even see straight. It was honestly all he could muster. Another word and he knew he would break down. Keeping his cool was a must. The moment he started to cry was the moment he admitted Cosette might not leave that hospital.

"I'm being serious, Enjolras." Grantaire's breath created pearly goose-bumps on Enjolrad' neck. "I want to talk with you. I want to know how I can make it all go away." Unless Grantaire was trained in medicine, Enjolras seriously doubted his ability to really solve the problem. Still, Grantaire could help him feel at least a little better. All Enjolras had to do was work up the courage to unload. 

Enjolras had always been very passionate, but he wasn't one to cry in public. He had to be strong for everyone else. Afterall, he was the leader. 

"It's just all my fault!" Enjolras suddenly blurted, his head popping out of his hands. "I could've been there- I should've been there! I should've answered my phone and kicked down her door, but I-I didn't. And now-now this amazing girl could d-die because her stupid, older brother wasn't there when she needed him." Tears rolled down his cheek uncontrollably like the flood gates had burst open. Grantaire was quick to wrap him in an almost aggressive hug.

"This is not your fault." He sobbed into Enjolras shoulder. "And there is no way Cosette is going to die."

"How do you know that?" Enjolras rasped. 

"I may be cynical and I don't believe in much of anything, but I know Cosette's work is not done here." Grantaire rubbed away some tears. "She's too good to go just yet. I've never believed in God, but if he's real, he wouldn't take her away from us just yet. We haven't had her long enough. She's not going to leave us." He wasn't sure how much truth those words held, but Enjolras wanted to believe him so much, it burned. 

"Besides-" Grantaire continued, a bit calmer. "You weren't the only one she called." 

Brows furrowed, Enjolras leaned out of the hug. "She called you?"

"Yeah, she left some awful message about suicide being the only answer." Grantaire shifted into a casual sitting position, back against the back rest and on leg bent with its foot on his other leg. 

"Why didn't we see this coming?" Enjolras wondered out loud as he rested his head on Grantaire's shoulder. "She told me she was better. Why don't people tell me when things get bad again?" He said 'people' so Grantaire knew he was including him lying aboutnhis sobriety in that statement, which stung. "Doesn't she know I just want to help? Doesn't anyone know that?"

"They know that." He spoke from expirence. "But they don't want you to know how fucked up everything is because they don't want to let you down." Enjolras lived on a cloud, and no one wanted their issues to bring him crashing to reality. At least he had Grantaire to remind him that the world is darker than he believes.

 

\---

 

Courfeyrac watched from his seat as Marius paced back and forth in front of the window into Cosette's room, ocassionally stopping to look in. Marius being concerned about Cosette really shouldn't be such a huge concern. I mean, Courfeyrac was worried too, but he never dated Cosette and he most certainly didn't have any harbored feelings for her.

He should have known that Marius still loved Cosette. You could argue he was just a good guy with his heart in the right place, not wanting an innocent young lady to have succeeded in suicide, however you weren't there. Courfeyrac was and he could tell by the way his eyes were misty. There were other signs, but this was the one that proved it.

The thought of letting Marius go was pretty much the worst feeling in the world, even if he knew it was what he had to do. Marius and Cosette were meant to be. They all knew it, even Cosette who ripped open his heart to save him. Courfeyrac could tell she had been regretting breaking up with too. Sure, it was selfless, but she could have handled the situation differently, especially since Marius was willing to endure whatever he had to just to be with her. 

Letting out a yielding sigh, Courfeyrac got up and went to Marius. He stopped Marius' obsessive pacing and manic murmuring to himself by putting a hand on his tense shoulder. "Marius, we need to talk." The confusion that crossed Marius' face wasn't making the situation any easier. He took his hands and dragged him away from Cosette's window.

"W-what do you need to t-talk about?"

Shit! The kid was already close to tears. 

"Look." Courfeyrac itched the back of his neck sheepishly. "These have been the best two weeks of my life, and I mean that. You make me feel things that I've only heard about in Taylor Swift songs. Not the break up ones, the nice ones." Things really could have been going better. 

"Aren't they all break up songs?" Marius asked with the most heart-melting,puppy dog eyes Courfeyrac had ever seen.

"Not all of them, but that sort of brings me to my next point." He didn't expect Marius to catch it right away. Despite being some sort of genius, Marius didn't have a firm enough grasp on social cues to pick up when some was about to break his heart in two. "Marius, you love Cosette, don't you?"

"W-what?" Marius shuttered. 

"I know that that night we hooked up was just you spiting Cosette. You were grieving and you needed to do something a little reckless. So, you did me." The little chuckle that Courfeyrac nade was nothing sort of deranged. "I took that as a sign that you liked me, which y'know, you really can't blame me for, so I sort of forced you into a relationship."

"Courfeyrac." He looked so lost. "It-it wasn't like that. I knew exactly what I was d-doing and that I really l-liked you."

"But you like Cosette more." Courfeyrac looked at his shoes. 

"That's not-"

"Don't deny it!" Courfeyrac snapped. "I see the way you look at her. It's the way I look at you. I want you to be happy, so we have to end this," he said conclusively.

"But I-"

"Don't!" Courfeyrac covered Marius mouth with his hand strictly. "Don't say you love me. This is hard enough!" Under Courfeyrac's hand, he could hear Marius finish his phrase in a muffled voice. It brought tears to his eyes thinking that Marius loved him. 

Marius kissed Courfeyrac's hand off his mouth. "Why do people I love think they're doing my a favor by breaking my heart? Don't they know I want them and everything that comes with them? They aren't being a hero, they aren't being selfless, because if it were selfless, it wouldn't hurt so bad." 

Courfeyrac wished why Cosette abandoned him when it got rough in a way he hadn't already been told, but he couldn't. He couldn't even explain himself really. "Everyone who isn't in love is looking for a way in, and everyone who is, is looking for a way out." 

Before either of them could continue, a doctor popped out of Cosette's room. "Excuse me." She interupted. "Do either of you know where I could find a Marius Pontmercy?"

"That's m-me." 

"Miss. Fauchelevent just woke up, she asked me to bring you in." At that, Marius looked at Courfeyrac for permission. 

"It's okay." He smiled at him, a smile he could feel did not reach his eyes. "You love her." Lip quivering, Marius dove in for a hug. "Besides, we're friends before anything else, and in some ways, that's better." He just had to find those ways that made friendship more rewarding. One day, he would. He was sure. 

As he watch Marius go in with nurse, Courfeyrac felt someone coming up behind him. "Coffee?" Combeferre asked. He didn't want Combeferre to see him in such turmoil, so he faked the brightest smile he could. 

"You're always there when I need ya!" To seal the deal that he wasn't about to peel his own skin off, Courfeyrac pressed a kiss against Combeferre's cheek and snagged a coffee. It reminded him of that kiss they shared almost two months ago and how it made him feel special, but he was too afraid to admit it. They were best friends, he didn't want to screw that up. Pursuing Marius was different. Losing his friendship wouldn't be as much of a loss since they had just met that year. Losing Combeferre, however would've killed him. 

"Are you okay?" Combeferre lazily massaged Courfeyrac shoulder with the hand that wasn't carrying around a tray of coffee. 

"Well I just sort of broke up with Marius." He didn't see any reason to lie, he would find out sometime. 

"Seriously?" He asked a little to sprightly. "I mean- sorry, I'm very sorry." 

He sat down on the bench and slouched down so that his forearms rested in his thighs. "Don't be." He sighed. "He and Cosette were meant to be. It was written in the stars. He and I, we were just a fling." 

"It's okay to be sad about, you know." Combeferre joined him on the bench. "You really liked him." 

"True." Courfeyrac nodded, feeling his heart beat fast as Combeferre scooted closer. "But I'm beginning to see he wasn't right for me anyways."

"Is that so." Combeferre sounded as if he was preparing for Courfeyrac to wax lyrically about love and more specifically Marius, but then Courfeyrac took him by surprise.

"Yeah. It turns out that the right guy-" Courfeyrac took Combeferre's hand, admiring the novelty that they fit together perfectly. "Was here the whole time." Truth was, he was in love with Combeferre and that scared the shit out of him. 

 

\---

 

When you're sixteen, you aren't supposed to see someone you love in a hospital bed, hooked up to IVs, and wrists bandaged. When you're sixteen, all you're supposed to worry about is finding a date to homecoming and getting your drivers license. Of course, the world we live in is far from perfect, and sometimes kids go through very adult things. No one wanted to watch Marius grow up as he stepped into Cosette's hospital room, but he did. The youth, and the tears, drained from his eyes. 

"Cosette!" He blurted, not hesitating to kneel beside her bed and cling to her hand. For a while, Cosette just shushed him as he sobbed into her hand. Neither if them knew what to say after someone attempted suicide. "I am so sorry!" Marius murmured through the weeping. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Cosette dropped a docile kiss on Marius' forehead. "This was all me." Even after trying to take her own life, Cosette was the kindest person he had ever known. And the most beautiful. By some miracle, or maybe a nurse with a flare for style, Cosette's hair laid on her pillow perfectly, making her look absolutely angelic. 

Marius sniffled as he gazed up at her with a quivering lip and crumpled brow. "Why'd you do it?" He pursed his lips. "We love you so much! I love you so much!" As odd as it seemed to get so loud in a hospital, Marius couldn't express the feelings that were so desperate to be spoken without raising his voice a bit. 

"I rely on people too much. For my happiness, for how I feel about myself." She explained. "And I can't do that anymore. I have to happy within myself, but I'm not. I don't think I ever will be." 

"I think- I think it's okay to lean on people a little bit. I think that when people really care about you, they want to make you happy." Marius shrugged melancholily. "I know I do." A sad smile stretched across her face as Marius hung his head and kissed her hand softly. "I just want to make you as happy as you make me." 

"Thank you." Her voice was all choked up at the sentiment. Again, neither of them knew what to say. The only difference was that that time they didn't care. Sometimes silence says more.

"Cosette." It was scary how strained he sounded, along with how scrunched up he made his face. "I want to be with you, and I know you do to." He was so ready for rejection, it broke Cosette's frail heart. "Courfeyrac and I are over. He wants us to be too." 

"Marius, we've discused this-"

"Well, I don't care!" Marius jumped to his feet, arms shooting out in rage. "I don't want you to protect me. I'm in love with you and I would go through anything- I would do anything to be with you." Angry tears streamed down his reddened cheeks. "I don't care how people look at me, all that matters is how you look at me." 

Cosette wanted to fight that, however she didn't really have a valid argument. Marius might have finally done it, until something popped into her head. A fear she always secretly harbored about a nice boy like Marius falling for her without knowing the truth from the very beginning. "You know, you don't have to do this. You can not want to date me just because I'm not like the other girls."

"You're right." Marius nodded as he crouched down beside her bed. "You aren't like the other girls. You are so much more. You're not just trans gender-" Ever so delicately, Marius plucked her pink barrette off the hem of his sweater that he kept from her since the night the broke up and clipped it into her hair. "You're transcendent."


End file.
